GUARDIAN, I begged, wriggling my toes in shoes that sat atop a concrete floor and had no way of contacting the soil. Was that why the unthinkable had happened? Our pack’s secret weapon couldn’t reach me through the veneer of human civilization?
Whatever the reason, Butch’s dominance was so great that my fingers refused to cross silverware over my untouched plate of quiche and cupcake. Couldn’t change their trajectory and reach for one of the half dozen razor-sharp knives I had secreted about my person either.
I could, however, speak.
“If you’re refusing my offer, you may go,” I ground out. “You don’t have to prove your point by overpowering me.”
“Your offer,” Butch countered, “although intriguing, is not why I’m here.”
I shouldn’t have felt disappointed. After all, the role of Consort
