Anger licked at her insides like the flames flickering in the hearth by her side. It smoldered within her burning away both the emptiness that had settled in her heart and the lead coal that occupied her stomach. And for the first time that night, or was it day? She couldn't be sure. But for the first time, she felt something other than the brokenness that had consumed her, and so she clung to it with both hands.
Alexa glowered at the door the retreating black-haired werewolf had disappeared out of. She'd seen the flickers of anger in his own gaze and felt put off by it. What right did he have to be angry at her? It wasn't if she'd be the one to take away his choices. She wasn't the one who had the audacity to waltz into a room and demand that he be with her simply because she said so.
