None but the one my grandfather had made a deal with. The Guardian, who slept...mostly.
Rune didn’t lean in closer, yet his persimmon scent consumed me. “You sound certain, but you had no idea I bore fae blood until I revealed that fact.”
Even when I’d used his true name, Rune hadn’t released me from his alpha compulsion. But now his agitation did what the true name hadn’t. Tingles of feelings shot back into my fingertips. My hands continued their earlier aborted trajectory before I could freeze them into stillness.
Fork crossed over knife atop my plate. And Megan must have been hovering right behind me, waiting for the signal.
Because something cold and gloppy poured over my back, my front, my head. I was drenched in milkshake, rich and sweet and full of chocolate. Curls flattened, clinging to my jawline. I swiped one hand across my face to clear it of the dripping mess.
I hadn’t heard him move, but Rune was standing by the time I pried my eyes back open. The kindness was gone from his face now. Instead his features had frozen into a mask, pure beauty so perfect it was horrible.
This time, he didn’t use my name. Just my title. “There was no need for evasive action, Alpha. I get the picture. I’ll take that as a no.”
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