Herbalists' Cache my baby, she don't love me

The approach of not just one, but a trio of wolves had Kincaid quickly placing all four paws on the ground. Although he was unashamed to be cause pissing — he had pissed, shat, and fucked with impunity for most of his life, and often with an audience of at least one — he was uncomfortable being approached at all by more than one wolf at a time. Especially without Nine at his back, he felt small and easily displaced in confrontation.

"Ma'am," he acknowledged with a dip of his head, and then gave an even slighter nod in the male's direction. ". . . partner."

Then his sloe gaze fell on the girl, and he started to bristle all over again. She was young enough that he was quite sure he shouldn't be this close to her, and the way the male stepped out in front of her left no room for doubt. He skated his gaze elsewhere and began to slink away, chosing a path that would take him no closer to the trio, but would keep him from turning his back to them as well. He had been dressed down most severely the last time he'd accidentally gotten too close to a pup, and those scars were on his flank, hidden beneath his thick undercoat.