Sean
“Lemme get dis straight.” Big Easy leans back in his chair, burly arms crossed over his broad chest. In daylight, the skull type tattooed mask around his eyes is even more pronounced and adds significantly to the impression of wariness. “All ya’ll someting extra. Ever’ single one o’ ya in de Candlewood leadership.”
Jack raises his hand. “I’m normal.”
A hard snort and hearty laughter explodes from Big Easy’s mate where she’s perched on the arm of his chair and from Tarot in the seat next to him. “Jack,” Vermillion drawls, “much as we love ya, ain’ nobody accuse ya o’ bein’ normal, even if ya didn’t shift in half de time other wolves do.”
Facing me, Jack mutters, “Why does everybody always say that?”
“Is there really an issue for you, Big Easy?” Leo bites defensively. “Your mat
