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

The hint of a lopsided smirk ghosted upon his features, nosing at the gift once more, seeing if he could continue to get under the dark wolf’s skin further. “I hope it does,” he returned, his tone smooth despite his deep rumble. All the better to hip check you with my dear, for even laying eyes on my creek, he thought darkly.

At the question, the dark mercenary began to rise, his tense muscles flexing as his eyes grazed over the male. The unknown male was wise to keep his distance—Constantine might have been humored for the moment, but his patience would run thin quite fast if the wolf continued to harass his pack mates.

“Keep the lines pure?” He paused, a snort of amusement escaping him. “We are not blood-related here. I assume that where you’re from, you are?” Had he still been at Donnelaith, with his numerous siblings, he could certainly see the appeal of trying to lure a she-wolf from another pack to his side. Instead, he had pined after one and had wasted his more youthful years being too afraid to speak up.

This brazen youth didn’t have that issue—and there was no doubt in the Mayfair’s mind that after their explosive discussions as of late, Aria would only be too happy to follow Mahler’s wolf back to wherever he was from.