Though it was not within Larkspur’s realm of knowledge to recognize tone as it applied to speech, he could not miss the pointed gaze and the feeling that was rising off the young alpha. There was an instant transformation. Both of his eyes lit as if fire burned in their Jack-O-Lantern glow, his jaw tightened slightly, and his body moved to lean one broad shoulder against the doorframe. He did not need the can tah to tell him why the orange wolf was here.
Yet he still said nothing. He only looked at Conor silently. This was perhaps what he had ultimately wanted, but things were changing. The warnings whispered by the little god told him so. He would obey these before any other voice in this word—even Misery, whom he had sworn his life to.
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