CAINE
There's an itch under my skin I can't get rid of, and it isn't helping my temper. I've already been to Forest Springs, only to find out Grace isn't anywhere in their territory. Their Alpha, however, is a reasonable man.
He traded his pet warlock for his life. I didn't spill a single drop of blood, something I'll have to remember to tell the girl later; it'll show her I'm capable of holding back.
The thought of her relief when I tell her helps soothe the itch, until Fenris snaps, You still don't get it, you idiot.
He's barely said a word to me since we discovered Grace missing two nights ago.
My new warlock's hands shake as he takes her pillow from me. My fingers twitch. I want to snatch it back—the soft bundle of polyester fluff still smells like her.
"This will do nicely," he says, his voice thin and reedy. The Forest Springs Alpha wasn't lying when he said his pet magic user was skittish. What's his name again?
Thom, Fenris snarls.
Right, Thom.
