KATHERINE
Both Xander and I whipped around toward the door the moment the heavy knocking shattered our conversation.
“Were you expecting someone?” he asked. But it was clear from his tone that the question was purely rhetorical. There was a dangerous, jagged edge in his eyes, in his voice — a fierce, burning, barely suppressed protective rage. Alpha pheromones began to cloud the air: his inner wolf was already clawing at the surface, ready to tear apart anyone who dared disrupt our peace.
“Not that I knew of” I replied. It wasn’t exactly the truth: I knew that, sooner or later, Lucian or one of his guys would inevitably come knocking at my door. I was expecting them: surely not for breakfast, though. And surely not happily.
“Good. Then I’m going to go kick whoever it is back where the
