Emberwood [m] Internet killed the video star

These things had never made sense to him. The vitriol was astounding, considering their main complaint seemed to be, I was miserable and suffering; why weren't you suffering miserably too? He didn't know of anyone he loved who he wouldn't rather see happy in his absence, even if he was doing poorly himself.

But he supposed the hurt came from romantic betrayal more than anything else; they both wanted Reverie to themselves. That made sense to the coywolf, who still could not muster any real sympathy. He affected it because he knew it was what he was meant to feel, but every ounce of it was fabricated.

He was thinking, I wonder when they kissed.

He was thinking, Oh, Reverie — you really can't keep it in your pants.

He was thinking, Finally, bring it on! as Tybault finally snapped and launched himself in the coywolf's direction. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't expect Reverie to butt in, but it still came as an unpleasant (albeit highly flattering) surprise when teeth meant for him tore into her instead. And if it'd been any other place, any other angle, he might've sat back and let them duke it out.

But it was Reverie's throat. And before he could even react, there was blood.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Dusty Rose berated them both, rushing forward to to help, to get between them, to hold his One in her dying moments — he didn't know. So he tried to do all three for a heartbeat, his eyes wild with terror for her, and for himself if she were to perish.

He wasn't ready.