Swiftcurrent Creek he said he had himself a dark-haired daughter, with long green eyes

The wolf made himself known—his thick head popped up, and the Mayfair considered with quiet calculation the size of the other, which was indeed impressive. If it came to it, an altercation that turned violent could indeed end with the death of the other. And if this wolf was bothering Aria, Constantine would not hesitant to begin that dance.

Still, amusement pulled itself to his lips at the wolf’s assumption—either he was quite the fan of himself, or he was trying to make light of the situation.

Bending his muzzle down, Constantine tore another strip of meat from the leg, chewing it for a silent moment before swallowing and answering. “You’re pretty set at stealing away a she-wolf of Swiftcurrent Creek.” He paused, his stocky form beginning to lift from the ground and stand at full height. Which was smaller than Romeo. “Why?”

The mention of Aria stirred his hackles, but he forced the reaction away—more intent on something else he noticed upon the dark wolf. “You smell like Mahler. Did he send you here?”