Two. Zeke made a face. He was three and he hadn’t even thought about kids. Hell, he hadn’t even thought about sex in months. Women were nothing but trouble and as inconsistent as a summer storm. Talitha had proven that several times over, going from psychotic one minute to loving the next. If all women were like his sister, heaven help the less-fair sex.
Before he had time to interject, the younger wolf went about packing the glass with his herbs. Ezekiel was again thankful he was alone—Talitha had cut him off before, but perhaps that was for the best. While acting as Aquila he wasn’t allowed to be himself. Not that he had time for marijuana much anymore; patrols meant his senses had to be clear. Sage’s herbs, as he had quickly found from her fighting lesson, dulled these.
Yet his hands worked with muscle memory and his lungs did as well. He sparked flame, burned the green plant, and breathed in smoke. When he drew back he held his breath for a moment, two, and then as his throat began to burn released a cloud of gray-white smoke with a slight cough. “I used to,” he admitted, holding out the glass. “Don’t have time for it now that I’m Aquila,” he grumbled, emphasizing the word with a sneer.
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