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212. The Scent of Fear
~ CASIMIR ~
The scent of fear hung in the air like perfume, wrinkling my nose, because I knew it coated the walls after all those wolves descended into panic together.
It was a measure of Rory’s steadiness that he’d returned so quickly—and that he met my eyes steadily, even if there was tension in him.
He approached carefully, his steps deliberate, eyes on me, but his senses pricked. If he’d been in his wolf, his ears would be flicking to every corner of the room as he instinctively gauged the level of danger in this room.
I sighed. “I will not compel you,” I growled. “That is, not unless you have distasteful things to say about my mate as well?” I arched one brow, half-trying to ease the tension, half-warning him of the bou
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