Forest green eyes met his, and Levent made his smile warmer. It seemed to take her a moment to understand what he meant—and not just because of the interjection of a foreign word. However, fury bubbled on her fine features with the realization, fury and grief, and had he not held something dark inside him, he might have gone to embrace her in that instant. His predatory nature and his sense kept him at bay, however; she didn’t like his stare, so certainly she wouldn’t want him to touch her. As much of a flirt as he was with both sexes, the thought of forcing himself on someone even in an innocent way was disgusting.
Her voice shaking with anger, she confirmed that she’d seen war. He had a feeling it wasn’t the continual battles and espionage of a true war that existed in the east, but seeing the tension between the packs even in Nova Scotia, he believed this fragile silver fawn was lucky to escape with her life.
She still looked awkward and timid, but her smile and laugh brought her, if briefly, out of her shell. Her joke made him grin crookedly, although he might have told her exactly what he might have done. Honey attracted more flies than vinegar, and Levent was skilled with schmoozing and simpering and sliming his way to power. It was simpler to be kind to this sweet creature than threaten her, especially because his heart was almost as soft as her plush silvery fur.
The woman thanked him for his offering, fumbling with the shirt until she managed to push her arms through the sleeves. He liked the look, which Wilson seemed to notice; his yellow eyes flicked to his companion, whose dark ears grew warm. Crouching to ruffle the cat’s fur, he looked back at the woman relaxing bit by bit.
“Levent Kartal,” the brown-furred man answered with a grin, gesturing to the tom, “and my dear friend Wilson. He’s a bit shy around new canines, though; don’t mind him.” He shrugged dismissively, but the look he shot the feline was warm.
Deciding that they might chat for a little while, he took a seat on the earth and leaned back, propped up by his arms. It was easy to see how scrawny he was like this. “So where do you come from, lovely Fayne Gremory?”
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