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20. Of Ancient Werewolf Princes

Stefan’s POV

“Can we talk now?” I ask my mother, looking down at her as she leisurely sips a glass of wine. “You look rested enough.”

When I released her last night, she insisted that she wasn’t ready to talk until she cleaned up, fed, and rested well. It’s now almost evening on the next day and I’m finally able to get her. But I know she’s capable of dragging this thing into tomorrow just to spite me.

“Sit,” she instructs, indicating the armchair nearest to the couch she’s sitting on.

I’m not in the mood to sit around and chat with her, and I make that known right away. “Why is my wolf that way?”

She leans forward, two fingers holding her wine glass daintily. “Can you tell me exactly what ‘that way’ means? Any antics to narrate of?”

Hah! She’s dreaming if she thinks I’m about to list down all my weaknesses to her. She doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m the one asking the questions here,” I grit out.

She waves her hand in dismissal and straightens back up. “I’m sure I’ll find out
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