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SEVENTY-EIGHT | HEATED
Skye’s face paled immediately. I doubted my complexion had changed much, but my eyes were round and glassy as I stared off into the pots of herbs. I read the label on the green sage to myself, over and over, until the words no longer looked like words to me, and the letters no longer looked like letters.
“Why the silence?” Grandma Rosie seemed equal parts irritated and concerned. “That shouldn’t be a problem, should it? Wolves run in packs, and based on the fact that there are two vampires sat in front of me, both of whom are willingly attending school for what I assume is not the first time, I’d hazard a guess that there’s a clan nearby, too.”
“It wouldn’t be a problem,” I began, very quietly, “if either Skye’s pack or our clan knew about the other. They don’t… they don’t know about us,” I gulped.
Grandma Rosie sighed.
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