Ragnor
"Patrolling."
The lie slipped out smoothly, but it tasted like poison on my tongue. I hated lies. They were weak and sloppy, completely beneath an Alpha, and yet here I was, feeding one to Deidre while my fingers still carried the scent of another woman's pussy.
My mate's cunt.
My fingers flexed into fists behind me, irritation curling in my gut. Deidre's eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, but then she smiled softly, sliding closer until her body pressed against mine.
"Patrolling," she repeated, drawing the word out in a low purr. Her fingers trailed up the buttons of my shirt before wrapping around the back of my neck.
"You look frustrated, my love. Are you tired? Come, let me ease off your tension." She looped her arm through mine, her fingers intertwining with mine.
Terror prowled restlessly inside me, shaking with disapproval. He didn't like this. He didn't like her scent covering Candace's scent on my fingers.
