That had been his first mistake, muting his ability to smell. Then he’d made a second mistake. Desperate for a distraction, he’d called Roarke, knowing his brother would provide an extra incentive to keep him in his own room. Roarke hadn’t disappointed. His disapproval of Aidan’s methods for neutralizing the threat from Theo registered about nine on the Richter scale. “So you’re telling me that last night, after shifting, you waltzed into her bedroom to check on her? You couldn’t have thought to do that before you dressed in your fur overcoat?” “You know I can think better after a shift.” “That’s debatable, buddy boy. A thinking wolf wouldn’t have tiptoed in to peek down at Sleeping Beauty, knowing that she might—oh, I dunno—wake up and said wolf’s ass would be grass. That’s the sign of a wolf who’s a few bones shy of a full rack of ribs, if you know what I mean.” Aidan closed his eyes and let his brother rave on. Roarke was his lifeline to sanity, his anchor, so he wouldn’t go out that door.
What do You think about A Werewolf In Manhattan (2010)?
