"Wait." Sharon Spark finally emerged. "Alone?" Luthor Michaelson nodded, and gave her the slightest glimmer of a smile. He knew, he just knew, that he wasn't even nervous, damn him. "Yes, I want you to decide what to do with these four. If you don't want to, however, I'll—"
Sharon shook her head, "No, I want." She gazed into his face, so sure she was going to see some sort of hostility there. Like he was just holding back, waiting for her to make a mistake, so he could remind her where her place was.
Rather, Luthor's expression was utterly genuine. He did want her to call, in fact, in plain sight in front of a good portion of his pack. Sharon swallowed hard, tension knotting with the bubbling cauldron of restlessness simmering beneath her skin. This was just terrible timing—she was alrea
