Garfor asked. “Where’s Megan?” Rork added. “Good morning to you, too.” Loban looked up from his computer tablet as Rork and Garfor walked into the kitchen. “She should be back soon.” “Back from where?” Rork furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure. She said she was going out for a while this morning, but would be here for breakfast and asked me to make sure you two stayed home until she returned. It was kind of mysterious.” “And you just let her go?” “We’re her mates, not her keepers, Rork,” Loban responded before drinking the last of the chorba in his mug, holding it up and shaking it in his direction. Rork took it and stomped over to the counter. “Is she walking or riding?” Garfor questioned, sitting down at the table. “Seeing as I didn’t follow her out the door, or go running to a window once she left, I have no idea.” Loban chose not to add how difficult it was for him not to do either. His instinct to shelter and protect her was as strong as theirs.
