“Hey,” Bob called out.
I ignored him.
“You won’t. The impressions you would get from the others is more like a sixth sense than anything. You would just know if something was wrong or not quite right.”
“We just feel negative emotions then?” Stone asked.
“No,” I explained, “you would feel joy, too, but it would be more a sense of wellbeing, as if, instead of dread, things were good.”
Stone remained quiet, but his eyebrows knitted together as if he was thinking deeply.
I covered the side of his face with my hand. “It won’t take away anything from our bond.”
When the tension drained from Stone’s shoulders, I knew I hit on his worry. “Now that you’re my mate, I can’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
“Adding pride members won’t do that.”
Stone drew in a heavy breath before speaking again. “Okay.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Okay?”
I never actually thought he’d agree.
“Yeah, okay. I’m in.”
“That just leaves you, Sinclair,” Shade said. “So, what do you say? Are you in?”
“I am, but before I agree, there is one last thing you need to know. Once part of the pride, if one of us dies, we will all feel it. A part of us will be missing and we will mourn that person far longer than we regularly would.”
“So,” Bob said, “don’t die.”
Stone pointed to Bob. “I’m with him. No dying.”
Easier said than done when someone was out to get me.
Stryker sat forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “How do we do this?”
“Since I’m the hyena, you all need to exchange blood with me.”
Stone growled.
That seemed to be the usual response around here.
“They can prick their finger, Stone. They don’t have to bite me.”
“Oh.”
I chuckled before looking toward the others. “Does someone have a knife?” I blinked when three knives suddenly thudded and stuck into my desk. “Uh, thank you.”
Glad I wasn’t attached to the wooden desk.
I picked up the knife and pricked the tip of my finger. I was going to have a lot more pricks than everyone else. They only had to do it once. I had to do it with each of them. Maybe I’d use a new finger each time to lessen the damage.
When a drop of blood welled up on my finger, I held it out. “Who’s first?”
“Me!” Bob started to jump up, but the arm around his waist held him where he was.
“You let me do it first, Bob.”
