"Alpha Volkov." Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as an imperturbable Ian crosses his bulky arms over his broad chest. The faintest hint of a smile pulls his lips and the yellow corona of his talisman around his pupils snaps and sparks. "As it happens, all I was doing was honeymooning with my mate. These three found us. As soon as we could arrange, we brought them back to you, Maxim."
"Of course you did," Alpha Volkov continues in his gruff and rumbling, Russian-roughened English. His dark eyes fix on me again and his nostrils flare as he inhales.
I smile at him sweetly, knowing that Volkov's only take-away will be the perplexing mingled odors of Dorian and Sean, my nearly-scentless newborn wolf half and the nothingness of Fae. Raising both hands, I brush my hair over my shoulders, exposing the length of both collarbones with the sweetheart neckline of my blouse. There's no mistaking the light, but visible marks of both Sean and Dorian upon my pale flesh.
