Callan brought lunch, and Russ. The three of them sat around the table in the corner of the office, but Jake found he didn’t have much of an appetite. All he had was a pounding headache and an irritable, lovesick wolf pacing in his head.
“So…” Callan began, setting down his sandwich. “Lyra Hart?”
Russ raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”
“She’s my mate,” Jake said, leaning back in his chair.
Russ blinked. “Sorry… did you just say she’s your mate?”
Jake nodded, lips pressed into a thin line.
Russ gave a low whistle. “Didn’t have that one on my bingo card.”
“Me neither,” Callan added.
“Well, I guess this solves your mate problem with the elders, at least,” Russ said with a shrug, taking a sip of his drink. “Though I’m guessing this sucks for Kylie.”
“She’ll be alright,” Callan sighe
