*Bryant*
I grab two flutes of champagne from a passing servant. I have only taken a few steps when Barkley nearly collides with me.
“So, are you going to dance with her?” Barkley asks.
“Her?” I repeat. “First ball of the mating Season, there are probably more than a hundred she-wolves in attendance. Did you have a particular her in mind?”
He gives me a pointed look, “Your Luna.”
“You danced with her. I would think that would suffice.” I mumble.
“She’s quite accomplished.” He tells me.
I huff lightly, “So I noticed.”
Barkley smiles, blast him. He wants me to notice.
“She didn’t want to, you know,” Barkley murmurs.
“What’s that?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes, the bastard, “Dance with me. She was afraid it would anger you.”
“Smart girl.” I mumble.
“Not a girl. More of a full grown sh
