Twenty-six:
Crimson Ashland
I couldn’t remember the last time that I had seen Hunter Pulfer. I knew he came for the holidays sometimes. But most of the year, he lived at court with the King. He was the head of the hunters and spent his time off hunting creatures unknown. He sat on the couch across from me, looking me up and down.
“You’ve grown,” he said, “the last time I saw you, you were a mere slip of the girl. Sickly thing. You still have your illness?”
I nodded.
“How does someone like The Prince of Wolves handle that? His mate being sick?” he asked.
“He handled it quite well, actually,” I said, “when he first took me to Castle Lupine, he acted like all I needed to do was to become a werewolf in order to get better. That was his main argument for the two
