Silvia
The attendant left, and Alpha Sherman closed the door firmly behind him.
My eyes were fixed on that white envelope with the gold wax seal as he moved to arrange the breakfast plates on the table.
"Don't worry," he said, noticing my hesitation. "It's probably just from my father."
He said it casually, his tone light, but the words felt heavy to me.
I stared at the food spread before us--perfectly stacked soufflé pancakes dusted with powdered sugar like fresh snow, blackberries and raspberries nestled between the layers.
Beside it sat a steaming herb and mushroom omelet, and an American coffee--strong, black, no sugar, no cream. Just how I liked it.
My wolf Keal stirred uneasily inside me.
Nobody had asked about my breakfast preferences, yet the meal was exactky what I liked.
