Chapter Eighteen-Luther

I watched Marcus as he studied my penthouse, his hands behind his back, and a looming umbrella of darkness that hung over him.

He'd never been to my place before, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it just yet. Blaire, on the other hand, sat at the bar eating a plate of food I ordered, her legs swinging off the barstool.

I felt her need for talking, and not long after, she asked, "So, Marcus, what do you do for a living?"

It was almost comical, but I did my best not to laugh at her. Marcus' dark gaze, which matched our father's shifted toward Blaire, and his eyebrow curved toward his hairline. "I'm a werewolf. I'm the lead hunter in our pack. That's what I do."

She gave him a snarky look and went back to her food. "You didn't have to get a tude about it," she mumbled.

Marcus smirked, and it slid underneath my skin. My wolf didn't like him chatting with my mate, or even looking at her, but he'd come in and found Bree's scent right away. He was the best hunter no matter how hard it