I watched Marcus as he studied my penthouse, his hands behind his back, and a looming umbrella of darkness that hung over him.
He'd never been to my place before, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it just yet. Blaire, on the other hand, sat at the bar eating a plate of food I ordered, her legs swinging off the barstool.
I felt her need for talking, and not long after, she asked, "So, Marcus, what do you do for a living?"
It was almost comical, but I did my best not to laugh at her. Marcus' dark gaze, which matched our father's shifted toward Blaire, and his eyebrow curved toward his hairline. "I'm a werewolf. I'm the lead hunter in our pack. That's what I do."
She gave him a snarky look and went back to her food. "You didn't have to get a tude about it," she mumbled.
Marcus smirked,
