Amelia Szegedy was in her usual severe wasp-waisted black, sleek auburn hair pulled back and her nails bright crimson. It wasn’t polish, it was showing control of the change, especially since she was jäger. Anyone attempting a raid on the Rouje manor might be forgiven for thinking Trevor or Jack the largest danger, but a jäger female was almost unstoppable while defending her chosen territory.
The manor was Amelia’s home ground, and she treated it as such. She was, like her mate, from the old country; the two were a package deal.
The vast farmhouse kitchen with its unfinished oak, rough rustic stonework, and sleek silver appliances was warm and cheerful, the breakfast bar polished to a mirror gleam. Perhaps Amelia was nervous, because she sounded almost tentative as she placed a plate of
