Whitney smacked Coop's snout while simultaneously pressing herself deeper into the couch. Coop fixed her with an unblinking ice-blue stare, gray-brown fur bristling along his spine. "Tory!" Whitney squealed. "He's going to attack!" "Maybe." I walked into the kitchen and snagged a Diet Coke from the fridge. "Try to protect your throat.

I have a cotillion event. Some yacht-club charity fundraiser thingy. Whitney is insisting, and Kit took her side.” Three wide smiles. “Oh shut up.

I tend to watch a lot of movies at home. It's nice to be close to the refrigerator with my pyjamas on and just relax.

Im studying jerkoffs in the wild," Ben answered dryly. "This seemed like a good chance to view one up close.

I see you, Ben. I always have. You're in my pack." He pulled away. "What if being packmates isn't enough for me?

Death in anonymity is the ultimate insult to human dignity.

Everyone’s gone mad, typing to themselves all day long like mindless robots.