Daemon
In the cool half-darkness of the sitting room, each of us was lost in his own thoughts.
I tensed every muscle in my body, doing everything I could not to let the nervous tremor show after what I’d just heard, while desperately trying to quiet the wolf whose rising growl I could barely keep under control. It lived somewhere beneath my skin, rolling through me like a dull echo, growing louder every time I so much as pictured Diana.
Seymour paced from one corner of the room to the other, running a hand through his hair as he went. Now and then he stopped, opened his mouth, and stared between Ragnar and me with an expression full of conflicting emotions. His furrowed brow and silent gestures made it painfully obvious that he wanted to unleash a torrent of abuse, but instead he merely
