Dame nods, though he is just as, if not more, confused than I am.
“Wait,” Iris pipes up. “You docked him?”
“You didn’t tell her?” Dame frowns, arms crossed.
“We got a little distracted,” I mutter.
To which his frown deepens as he grumbles.
“Deacon challenged me last night,” I say, speaking directly to Iris.
“Gods! What?” she blurts, hands resting on my chest. “Why? Are you alright?”
“He wanted me to release my claim on you,” I say, then watch as her face morphs into one of sheer disgust.
She doesn’t ask me if I won this time. She knows better than that.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Dame demands, but I’m already shaking my head.
“No. I don’t want any of this blowing back on you. If this shit goes south, you stay clean.”
“Well, you have to give me something. Someone is running around drugging our wolves. I won’t have it.”
He’s right. Our new friend is becoming more than just my and Iris’s problem. First Tara, now Deacon. Even if he was an asshole, he’s a Crescent, and he’s ours to protect. But I won’t drag Dame down with me in this mess.
“Do you know if we have any half-breeds on our pack roster?”
“You think he’s Crescent?” Iris asks.
“Possibly. That’s two wolves he’s left as collateral damage. And I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“We have a few,” Dame answers. “But our roster doesn’t track blood-quantum. We only know their nearest Crescent ancestor.”
“That’s useless,” I mutter. “Where’s Deacon now?”
“Infirmary,” Dame says. “Out cold. It was a clean dock, though. He’ll be fine.”
I nod, reaching for the door.
This conversation is cutting into my time with Iris. I only have a few more hours before the blissful ignorance of her orgasms is washed away, and she never wants to speak to me again. But Dame seems insistent on ruining my day as thoroughly as possible.
“That’s not all,” Dame mutters, scratching at his ear the way he does when he’s nervous.
Great, more bad news.
Kitty passes a crumpled scroll in my direction. I take it and do my best to smooth it out, but over my shoulder, Iris is already reading.
“What?” she snaps, snatching up the paper to inspect it more closely. “What does that mean?”
I don’t try to take it back. There were only two lines that mattered. The rest is standard template bullshit.
“It means they want to hold me for a formal inquiry,” I say.
Her face blanches.
“Formal inquiry?” she snaps.
I nod.
