I FOLLOWED THE TRAIL of laughter to the kitchen, which was much fuller than I’d expected. Wolfie was there, wearing pants but no shirt. So was his daughter...one arm slung around the waist of a man who wasn’t Ryder. A woman Wolfie’s age sat at the head of the table. And, at the foot, Ryder had one elbow on the table as he guarded the plate beside his own.
“You have to feed her,” he growled, glaring at all of them in turn. “Not just sweets, but meat. She looked hungry.”
I was starving. The scents in front of me made my empty stomach grind up against itself. The easy familiarity between the inhabitants was more seductive yet.
“Stand down, boy,” Wolfie chided, his tone gentle but the words so powerful they pushed me one step backwards. “You can run off to your job without worrying. Skye wi
