CAINE
The greasy paper bag of fast food slides across the seat as I turn onto the highway, releasing a cloud of salt, grease, and artificial flavors that fills the cab. I've already wolfed down my own burger—pun not intended.
Fast food isn't really just for the children. It's the secret vice of the Lycan King. Fenris can inhale his weight in burgers, if he really wanted to.
Bring me some, he insists, intruding on my thoughts. He must have dialed in when I was eating mine.
I already ordered you two. And that's all you get.
Good enough.
My hand brushes the seat where Grace sat earlier, sending up a puff of blueberry and the faint hint of cave. The tension in my shoulders eases slightly, almost imperceptibly, but enough to notice the difference. Like a muscle unknotting after days of strain.
I need more of her scent.
Mental note: have Grace sleep in my clothes. Then I'll wear them after. Pathetic, maybe, but my bond won't be denied its due.
