I didn’t say anything on the drive home. When my green-eyed boy was ready to talk, I’d be here to listen. And if he preferred not to say a word, that was all right, too. My wolf whined. Hush, I told him.
St John remained subdued as we walked from the mews after garaging the Jaguar. I had my arm around his shoulder, and I gently kneaded it with the fingers of my left hand, keeping him firmly anchored to me.
We climbed the shallow steps, and after I took out my key and unlocked the door, we entered the townhouse. It was quiet and still with no one else at home.
I removed my overcoat, took his, and hung them both up. Then I stripped off my dinner jacket, draped it over the banister, and watched him uneasily. “Not the smartest of moves on my part, I’m afraid, Singe.”
“I beg your pardon?”
