faded with Ella’s words. “Why?” she blurted. Julian gave her another dirty look—he was getting very good at them—then glanced back at the Frenchwoman. “Why now?” he amended. “Jorund’s fading,” she said simply. Julian let his gaze wander over the old man. “He seems to be doing all right to me.” Jorund’s lips twitched, but he didn’t take the bait. “Julian,” Ella snapped, her impatience evident in her Frenchifying of his name. “If you do not do it, I will.” “Told you they all weren’t as beta as you thought,” Alex murmured, which earned her another evil glare from the wolf-god. Alex was beginning to wonder about Ella. Although in the robe, she could see the woman’s neck for the first time and it was unscarred, she’d never gotten a decent peek at Ella’s ears since she always wore her hair down. Alex would not have considered the Frenchwoman a good candidate for rogue werewolf killer of the month—until she’d trotted out of the snowstorm right after the rogue had trotted into it.
