My phone rings, and I nearly leap out of bed to reach for it.
Marcus grabs it as I fall into an unceremonious tangle of blankets and legs on the floor, staring at me with an impassive face that hides his amusement.
I know he's laughing inside, because there are little crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his jaw's a little tenser than normal, as if holding back laughter.
"Unknown number," he reports, handing it to me.
Damn. Not Lucas.
Then again, maybe it is.
I answer eagerly, before I'm free of the mess I've created. "Hello?"
"Is this Alpha Westwood's mate?" The voice is soft and feminine, her words coming out in a rush.
I don't recognize it. "Yes. Who is this?"
"You must return to the pack, or everyone will be slaughtered." The woman's voice trembles, urgency lacing every breathy word. "You can't trust the Fae."
