But when Cora tilted forward, deliberately stumbling into him, he shot out an arm and caught her without hesitation. Steadied her against his chest. His fingers brushed, just barely, against the ends of her hair.
It had happened before,at past pack functions.
The Werewolf festivals always escalated. Wolves drank too much, played too rough.
Once, the dice had landed on me and Alpha Ethan for a linked-arms toast.
I had been so naively hopeful then. Surely he'd play along, even just to keep the room warm.
He'd refused,politely, smiling.
"She's a Gamma. It wouldn't look right."
"Oh, come on! Iris is a workaholic, she doesn't think like that. It's a game, Alpha. No one's serious."
I had clutched my glass and looked at him,hoping.
"Still. No."
He had turned away. Clinked glasses with h
