CALDER
Thorin was holding on by a thread, that much I could tell. I didn’t know the wolf very well as he barely spoke at dinner the previous night. His rage was consuming him, the mate bond clouding his sense.
He shook off the hands of the warriors behind him, trying to keep him contained. I took a step back, allowing him space, and he started pacing. His hands clenched and unclenched as he moved.
“So, Remington said you are part Fae,” I said, trying to take his mind off his mate being so close.
“Yea,” he growled.
“Mother or father’s side?” I asked.
“Mother,” he answered.
“Do you know from where she hailed? It is not common that Fae and werewolves are mated,” I commented.
“Her people were nomadic, I was told,” he said. His shoulders were still tense, and his hands continued
