Eighty One

It feels like everyone Avery has ever known is staring up at her intently.

She can feel sweat building up on the back of her neck, and she tugs gently at the silk scarf hanging around her neck as she glances up at Roman.

"You're probably wondering why we called this pack meeting," Roman begins, and looks down at Avery.

He raises an eyebrow at her.

Are you going to continue, or do I have to keep talking?, he asks urgently, and Avery has to hold back a smile.

She likes knowing that he's just as nervous as she is, because he doesn't usually express much emotion, especially in front of either of their packs.

Both packs together?

Forget it.

I might faint if I try to talk, she responds, and she isn't lying.

Sonya has gone radio silent out of absolute fear, and Avery herself feels ridiculously light-headed.

You can face down packs of rogues and vampires, but a speech makes you crap yourself? Really?, Avery grumbles to a slightly miffed Sonya.

Those rogues aren't expecting me to make a speech