Darby tips her head towards Ian, then meets his eyes with a mischievous glint in hers. "Behave yourself," she admonishes softly.
"For the record, it's not much of a reprimand when it sounds that much like an invitation," I drawl sardonically at my sister.
"I suppose not," she giggles, eyeing me pointedly. "Then again, I don't think you're in any position to talk."
Ian squeezes her around the shoulders, reminding, "If you're happy, we're happy for you."
"About that," Sean says, glancing around me at Dorian, then back to Ian. "What would happen to the charges against Silas' if the three of us were to return willingly, and we showed up mated?"
Inhaling deeply, Ian lets his breath out in a long sigh. When his eyes light on his empty glass, then the empty GlenDronach bottle regretfully, Dorian leaps up instantly to retrieve another. Releasing Darby's shoulders, the Alpha of Candlewood straightens in his seat and crosses his muscular arms over his broad chest.
