Remy
Jacek was waiting for me in the south hall, arms folded and one shoulder against the stone like he’d been born leaning on that wall. Todd came up from the kitchen with a coffee in each hand and the resigned look of a man who’d been volunteered for something before hearing the job description.
“Afternoon, Alpha,” Jacek said. “You look like a man who slept and didn’t hate it.”
“I slept,” I admitted. Pierce stretched once under my skin, pleased and possessive and—for once—quiet. “On a couch, next to the right person. Didn’t hate a minute.”
“Good,” Todd said, handing me a mug and clapping my shoulder. “I like you better when your wolf isn’t pacing the floorboards like a raccoon that wants in the sugar.”
I took a long drink and gestured toward the small conference room off the gallery
