"Why so shy?" he murmured, his thumb stroking her wrist where her pulse fluttered. "You're nothing like this when we share a den."
Beside me, my den-mate was already whispering to the others, her voice tight with disgust.
"Wolves these days have no honor."
"Right out in the open."
"Speaking of such things."
My feet felt like they'd been filled with silver weights. My chest heaved. The sheer impact of this betrayal threatened to crack my ribs open from the inside, my wolf howling in silent anguish.
I kept my eyes locked on them—on Rogan and this female, flirting like unbonded pups in their first heat—and pulled out the small scrying mirror from my cloak pocket. I captured their images. One. Two. Three. Then I opened my bond-link with Rogan and stared at the scent-tagged missives he'd sent thirty minutes ago.
My moon, I have pack business running late tonight.
Don't wait up for the evening meal.
Yours always.