It didn’t mean jack shit. Devin sat in his room and stared at her through the window. She never looked at his house, and he couldn’t blame her. Two weeks before, he’d absolutely humiliated her. Nothing about how he’d handled her confession had been appropriate. She was a young, unmated female. Even having been hung from his arms for five years in a Dragon prison didn’t excuse his bad behavior. He leaned forward, rubbing his now-smooth face. The day before he’d finally given in and shaved. He had no idea why and no time or interest in self-analyzing himself. More than anything, he wanted his ability to shift to return. He could heal his leg and get off the pills if only he could call his Wolf again. So far, nothing he tried helped. Lena seemed to be working all the time. That morning she’d left the house at six dressed in a business suit. He’d been up early enough to see her because sleep proved elusive since he stopped doping himself up.
