The next morning, Allison rolled over with a sigh. Dinner had been tense and quiet. She didn't know that anyone could chew angrily, but Deucalion had. Once they'd been done eating, they'd gone their separate ways. And he hadn't come to bed before she'd fallen asleep.
Looking over at him now, she wondered what possible reason he had not to go see his family. No doubt they were dying to see him. Could they be the same reasons he refused to be intimate with the pack?
Rolling over on her side, she watched him sleep. His face was turned toward the window where weak light filtered through. He was on his back, one arm flung across the pillows above her head. The other hand was resting on his chest.
Going up on her elbow, Allison gently moved his hand to look at the faint scar between his pecs.
