“I don’t want to hurt him either.” I tell Sinclair, my voice a mere squeak. “I know, little one.” Sinclair assures me, “I never thought you did. It’s just your instincts. I’m afraid that dream was a blessing and a curse – we know what you are now, but your wolf is also fighting harder to come out n

“No, I know you do.” Ella answers, her skin flushing bright red. “In fact I think you might enjoy it too much.” She adds ruefully, earning a laugh in reply. I know she’s been overwhelmed by my dedication to making her see stars as often and frequently as I can, but I don’t feel the least bit sorry a

“Mommy, I’m a fierce hunter.” I correct her indignantly, rolling my eyes at her silliness. There are some things Mommies just don’t understand. “Deadly pred-ters are not sweet.” “Says who?” She inquires, sounding slightly affronted.. “Um, says everyone.” I explain, as if it’s the most obvious thi

Ella Tears are streaming down Sinclair’s face as he relives his Mother’s death, and I’m doing my best not to burst into outright sobs. My heart aches for the little boy he once was, and for the burden he obviously still carries today. Hearing this story, I understand that his last conversation with

Ella Hugo, Sinclair and I are all staring at the television with wide eyes and slack jaws, unable to process the images flitting across the screen. It seems like every time we manage to take a few steps forward, Lydia and the Prince find a way to send us reeling back – and this is no exception.