usually forgot that little necessity and started blasting wildly. Which is why Elena was wearing the focus
amulet. It concentrated her power and kept it under her control. When I knocked it away, she lost her concentration. Even that momentary lapse was enough for me. It was a handy little trick I learned while trying to bring in a coven of Witches last year. The bittersweet smell of brewed coffee hit my nose. I turned to find Toby waiting patiently with two cups of coffee in his hand. That makes twice he's snuck up on me. He's getting better. I accepted the mug from the young Werewolf and cradled it in my hands. The warmth from the beverage inside felt good on my hands. “Thanks for watching my back, T.” I smiled sarcastically. "Nothing I could do,” he said after taking a heady drink from the mug. “This was your fight.” He lowered his voice. “And I knew you could take the Witch." Toby seemed more at ease with me today. Maybe a little rest had done him good, or maybe because the office wasn't empty. Or, more likely, he had recovered from his change. Whatever the reason, he wasn't eyeing me warily as if I were about to pounce on him. He looked better as well. His skin was rich and his eyes sparkled with life. His gray hair was still a mess, but it wasstylishly messy. He was wearing a simple pair of jeans, a yellow bowling shirt, and his usual pair of white and black sneakers. And they even fit.
I saw a golden glimmer around his throat. A thin chain wrapped around his neck and disappeared down into the collar of his shirt. As he leaned back slightly to take another drink of his coffee, my brow furrowed. I wasn't sure if I should be insulted, or ignore it. Not remembering if I had ever seen him wear a cross before, I let it drop. It was small enough to go unnoticed. If he started shoving it in my face, then we might have a problem.
I lifted the mug to my lips and took a sip of the coffee. Way too hot, the dark liquid seared the tip of my tongue. Pulling the beverage away with a wince, I waited for the pain to subside. “So what did you do with your evening?"
"Food Network,” Toby answered. “They had a great show on Creole cooking. I wrote down a couple of recipes. Might attempt jambalaya this weekend." I was suddenly thankful I didn't eat food. That meant the inevitable invitation to sample his creations would never come—among other reasons. Toby was a bit of an odd wolf. He claimed he could smell the preservatives and chemicals in pre-prepared food and they soured his stomach. I would have thought he was full of it, but it was well known that Werewolves had the most developed sense of smell of any Inhuman. Therefore, he was teaching himself to be a gourmet chef. Maybe it wasn't that odd after all, but I always had the image of an eight-foot-tall werewolf trying to make pancakes in my head when he talked about cooking. It made me smile at least. He took another sip of his coffee. “You?" "Snow angels in the sheets."
He cocked an eyebrow and laughed.
"Seriously,” I defended myself.
Maynard's office door flew open as Elena charged out. Holding her fingers over the cut I'd given her on
The Brimstone Betrayal
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