“Oh, shit,” I step out into the hall and shut the door.
“That’s new,” Dame says, an amused smirk on his face.
“Oh, you know what else is new?” I sniff the air. “That smell. It’s delicious. What is that? Lavender? Gardenias?” His eyes narrow. “Roses?”
He lets out a low growl, and I shake my head.
Dame’s no idiot. By now, he knows why I’ve claimed Iris, but he’s got a lot of nerve questioning my choices, especially when his have him looking more exhausted than I have ever seen before.
“Where have you been?” I ask. “You look like shit.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You sure?”
He nods, and I leave the conversation for another day.
“The Inquisition has requested to speak with Iris,” he says, holding out a sheet of paper.
I take it, skimming over the template language.
I’m not surprised they’ve called her up. They’ve been going down the list of attendees all month. But I was hoping it would take them a while to get through all the night students. They always go for the low-hanging fruit first.
“Did they submit a request to the Crescent council?” I ask.
“No.”
Good, her presence isn’t compelled then.
“We’ll go,” I say. “No need to drag it out.”
“We?” Dame asks, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“Yeah, I’m not letting her do that alone. You know how they are. Plus, if we go without a council order, she won’t be compelled to answer any of their questions, and maybe they’ll ease up on the rest of the pack when the time comes.”
“That’s a good idea,” Dame mutters, rolling his shoulders. “Remind me why you can’t be alpha, again?”
“I’m not a people person, remember?”
He groans as I pat him on the back.
Truth is, half of these idiots would be dead by now if I were alpha. Deacon, especially. Maybe even Owen for making me sit through that shit show of a double date.
He pulls my keys from his pocket, dropping them in my open palm.
“But if you so much as scuffed my bike, I will kill you and take your place.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
I’m sure he means that, to some degree. But the simple fact that he hates it so much is exactly why it was always going to be him.
I lean my forehead against his out of habit, and he sighs in mild relief as his wolf recognizes mine.
“Get some sleep,” I say. “I’ll handle it. And take a shower. You actually stink.”
He tosses up a hand, grunting something unintelligible as he turns for his room.
