He barely registered her shock when the books hit the floor. Ezekiel’s brow knitted together. The Hastati opened his mouth to speak but his sister’s banshee wail caused his ears to swivel back against his blonde hair. She crumpled like a paper dragon, but her voice was fire. Without even realizing it, his own body had tensed. Gold-yellow eyes narrowed and turned sharp, vicious, as if he was now staring at a stranger. In a very real way, he believed that this girl was not the sister he imagined she had once been.
Slowly, as if he was speaking to a child, the Hastati went on. “Because they are bound to us,” he said sharply. “Her name is Alaine Winters, and her children—our siblings—carry her name, not his. They don’t even look like—“ A pause. Wolves. They didn’t even look like wolves. He knew his father would never accept that label, but after so many years of living with them, Ezekiel saw him as such. Certainly, his father was no coyote. His father was nothing but a hybrid like his misfit children.
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