Lost Creek Hollow una tortura perderte

for a long moment there was no reaction; silvertongue's face closed into a still pool of mercury. but red light pounded in the canaling of her ears; spiced her sinuses; clenched her throat. "i will tell him myself that he is not to go toward the creek. he is here enough, for crowfeather. gunnar does not need to know." and while she understood this went against the established protocol of the three packs — oh, fuck you, germanicus! hate burned to malice, to poisonous frothing. it had been too much that akavir knew so much of her, and now silvertongue searched hard for pity in the eyes of the man she could not love, no matter how much her heart warmed to know him. "no one else needs to know." the tone, the same she had once used to say belen.