if he was going to howl again.

I flinched.

Graves half-turned, standing in the door. He drew himself up and dug in his pocket. Why he was

wearing his familiar black coat even in the middle of the night was beyond me—he probably even

slept in the thing. I was suddenly aware of my naked legs, and my boxers all twisted around. My

feet were bare, and the chill from the floor bit them even though Ash pressed against me some

more, the vital textures of shaggy pelt rasping against my skin, an unhealthy feverish heat dripping

from him.

“She’s fine!” Graves’s yell cut through the sudden noise. “Calm down. Everything’s kosher.”

I hoped they’d listen to him. If they piled in here while Ash was still nervous, we’d have another

Situation, and I was just too tired. We were at three nights in a row for Ash getting us out of bed,

and I was starting to lose hope.

Starting? No, I was already there. It had seemed so simple while I was running for my life. Funny

how getting to a safe place always complicates things.

Always assuming that the Schola Prima was a safe place. Safer than the little satellite school I’d

been at. The one that had burned to the ground because of me.

If it was safe, Christophe would be here. Wouldn’t he?

I flinched again at the thought, and the two healing marks on the inside of my wrist twinged heatlessly. Ash made another whining noise. I tried to dredge up something more, something comforting, something that would help him. I knew he understood me talking to him, I just . . . I couldn’t

find anything to say that seemed to help him.

Ash hunched, his ruined upper lip lifting. His jaw was still mangled from the silver-grain-loaded

bullet I’d shot at him right after he bit Graves. The current theory—Benjamin’s theory—was that

the silver was at once preventing him from changing and interfering with his master’s call.

I didn’t know what to think about that.

Here I was in a cell, clutching a werwulf’s ruff like he was a naughty cocker spaniel instead of almost eight feet of lethal muscle and bone, not to mention razor teeth and bad attitude.

“Calm down.” I didn’t have to work to sound weary. “Please, Ash. Come on.”

His head dropped. I didn’t even know what time it was; my internal clock was all messed up. He

leaned against me even harder, his shoulder dropping to rub above my knees. I was jerked forward,

my fingers still tangled in his ruff.

“Milady?” Benjamin’s voice. “Dru, are you in there? Are you all right?”

Ash growled. The sound rattled my bones.

“Cut it out, you overgrown fur rug.” I hauled back on him, achieving exactly nothing—he was way