CAINE
The girl's wrist is so thin and fragile, I'm reasonably certain it would break under the pressure of lifting a gallon of milk.
She's not that weak.
The bruises on her skin say otherwise, perfectly spaced. Four fingers and a thumb.
Hmm. How many fingers does a Luna need? She can probably get by with none. In fact, the Blue Mountain Pack has gone years without a Luna; I'm sure they would be just fine without one now…
Oh? Fenris perks up, his mental presence a little stronger. Are we killing her, then?
It's a tempting thought.
I take a deep breath of blueberry muffin-scented air, recalling the unknown scent all over her when we first met. My upper lip curls back in a snarl. Better to keep that vicious little Luna alive; she'll keep her mate in line.
Fenris hums in the back of my head. Good idea. Or we can kill both of them? His hopeful question is another temptation, but it would only bring forth more headaches in the long run.
At least without cause.
