Though considering his teachers had been male, it would have been a bit of a worry if it had.
And can you stop thoughts if you choose to do so?
Usually don't have to, as it's considered impolite to use private telepathy in groups and families, and including too many people in a mind-conversation can lead to a major league headache for the one coordinating. She paused. The only person I can't actually keep out is my twin.
He hesitated, but he couldn't stop himself from asking, And Ronan?
She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. Yet amusement seemed to run around him, a gentle wave of delight that somehow made him feel foolish. Though why, he had no idea. After all, what was so damn wrong with the question?
"What is it about Ronan that you dislike so much?"
He's had you for ten more years than me, he thought. He knows you better than perhaps I ever will. None of which made sense to say. Yet. “I don't dislike him. It's just a territory thing."
"That's implying I'm a territory that can be won, and when did you decide to make it a contest?"
She raised an eyebrow, silently challenging him. It wasn't a question he could answer—not until he'd actually had time to think about it himself. To think about what he actually wanted, beyond as much time with her as he could get.
"And why is it,” she continued, “that when male wolves hit a question they don't want to answer, they resort to the old ‘it's a territory thing’ excuse?"
"Because we're one dimensional and can't think of other excuses,” he said dryly.
"So true.” Her gaze left his at the sound of voices—one in particular, loud and gruff. She shook her head and added, “Dad's organizing the troops again. Heaven forbid that they actually be allowed to do their jobs without his input."
"I'll take care of him if you like."
She gave him a wry look. “I don't really need your protection. Never have."
No, he thought. And it was that independence that had hooked him when they'd first met. She didn't need him—and yet, she'd wanted to be with him, wanted to share all the delights of her life with him, whether they be large and small. And he couldn't even share something as simple as the truth. He was a bastard. There was no doubt about it.
But he was a bastard who was going to keep her alive, no matter what.
"If these people are going after your family, you'd better get your parents out of here."
"Yeah.” She walked on. “I'd been meaning to talk to Dad. It was stupid of me to delay it, but I didn't really think they'd go after them so fast."
"The person or persons behind these events are playing by rules we don't understand. Better to account for all possible outcomes than be sorry afterwards."
She looked at him, her expression unreadable, and nodded. “You're right. I kept my sister safe, but I didn't do the same for my parents. Stupid, as I said."
Maybe, but then, she'd probably been working on the same assumption he'd been—that the killer would come straight after them now that they were both in town. Obviously, her game plan was bigger than that.
As they walked around the corner onto Main Street, a big man with thinning blonde hair and angry-looking green eyes was coming towards them.
"Sav,” he all but barked. “Are you all right? What the hell happened here?"
He stopped several feet in front of them, giving them both a glare. Cade felt invisible hackles rising. It was that, more than the sudden tension tightening Savannah's shoulders, that told him this aging, leathery wolf was her father, Levon Grant.
"I'm fine,” she said, voice cool. “But the diner was bombed."
"Why the hell would someone bomb the diner?"
"It was meant to kill you, but Cade and I got there first."
Green eyes fastened on Cade. “And who the hell might Cade be?"
She stepped to one side, and waved a hand his way. “Cade Jones, from the Interspecies Investigation Squad."
"Really?"