13
Dinner could not have been more uncomfortable. Josh dropped half of his food en route to his plate. Sean smeared gravy into my hair when he failed to fully close his mouth, while burrowing and chewing at the same time. The rest of the pack clattered forks to their plates in between mouthfuls and sat gazing my way like halfwits during each round of mastication.
Maybe the mingling of my wolf scent with the potion had created the adverse effect. I didn’t know. It didn’t matter. I’d waded out of my depth, and it took all of five minutes to wish I’d listened to Jess before indulging in a frivolous dousing of r**e juice.
When the meal came to its conclusion, and the witches refused our offer of assistance with the tidying up, I couldn’t have been more relieved.
I tilted my face to Sean’s
