Dont let the bastards grind you down?" Bran looked at me incredulously.

Asil has appointed himself my guardian?" asked Charles softly. Asil was overstepping himself. "He was bored, he told me," said his father. He gave Charles a small smile. "I have given him a job so he doesn’t get bored again.

You are a sick, sick man,” I told him. “Thank you,” Ben replied, looking modest.

If it would benefit you, I would kill every wolf here. But there are things that you need to do -- and interfering with that is not protecting, not in my book. The best way for me to protect you is to encourage you to be able to protect yourself.

So in the sweltering heat of a July night, I sang a Christmas carol to a room full of fae, who had been driven out of their homelands by Christians and their cold-iron swords.

And that's when Anna realized that what the wolf had been asking Bran for was death. Impulsively, Anna stepped away from Charles. She put a knee on the bench she'd been sitting on and reached over the back to close her hand on Asil's wrist, which was lying across the back of the pew. He hissed in shock but didn't pull away. As she held him the scent of wilderness, of sickness, faded. He stared at her, the whites of his eyes showing brightly while his irises narrowed to small bands around his black pupil. "Omega," he whispered, his breath coming harshly.

Coyote never loses. Because I change the rules of the games my enemies play. What are the rules of your game?