Marvin moved to Alec’s side. After a quick hug and a whispered reassurance from his mate, the merman was all bright smiles and warm, welcoming chatter. It was artifice, but Marvin was good at being charming, especially when nervous or under threat. In merfolk, charm was a survival trait. Luring sailors to their deaths using beauty and siren song wasn’t all mythology. Marvin had simply moved onto luring locals to barbecues using throwing pillows and canapés. Everyone needs a hobby.
Biffy huffed. “Curtains,” he explained slowly as though to a very thick child (which, to be fair, rather defined Rafe’s character), “are a serious business.”
Every part of him hurt. It had been a long and vicious fight, the two of them – a Beta and a newly minted werewolf pup, trying to keep an Alpha alive. Trying to keep Lady Kingair from killing them all in her wild lust for revenge. They’d made it through the night with everyone still relatively intact.