I looked at the canine companion. “Me cookies. You stay.

She eats grass. Don’t ask.

What’s the deal with the hair?” Curran tore his gaze from the book and grimaced. “Grows every flare. Can’t help it." We stared at each other. “Waiting for the Fabio joke,” he said.

I turned to leave and paused before the gap in the ruined wall. "One last thing, Your Majesty. I'd like a name I can put into my report, something shorter than typing out 'The Leader of the Southern Shapechanger Faction.' What should I call you?" "Lord." I rolled my eyes. He shrugged. "It's short.

I just had to stay cool. Zen. No punching in the face. Punching would not be Zen.

If my luck held, it wouldn't be a handsome Greek demigod looking for the love of his life or at least his love of a couple of hours.

I wondered if kicking him in the head would make the whole explanation pop out of his mouth in one chunk.