The Lycan King's Defiant Surrogate
He stares down at it with some annoyance.
“I liked this shirt,” he grumbles, somehow more upset at the hole than he is at being shot.
In front of him, further down a narrow corridor, stands the butler holding a smoking gun. The butler looks incredibly confused, his brow furrowed.
I touch Caleb’s arm. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Caleb tells me. “It’s already healed. That bullet wasn’t even silver.”
“Not… silver?” I turn my attention back the butler. Surely he knows that a regular bullet would feel like nothing more than a bug bite to an Alpha werewolf. Yet, even so the man seems totally shocked.