NARRATOR

“I told you I wasn't sure…” Fenrir replied with annoyance.

“You don't want to be, either.” Magnus yanked him around, eyes full of accusation.

“Do you know how many wolves are dying to find their mates, and you're about to pull one of your stupid stunts?”

“If you want her so much, keep her! I'm gifting her to you, now let me go, fuck!” Fenrir shoved his brother's heavy paw away in anger.

Their blue eyes locked; their dark reddish hair glinted in the shafts of light filtering through the tall trees.

“You're going to regret this… if she finds out, and she really is your mate…” Magnus trailed off, but his point was crystal clear.

“She won't find out if you don't run your mouth, and I'm not planning on finding her anyway, so let's do what we came for,” Fenrir stayed stubborn.

His demeanor could seem laid-back, almost comedic, but beneath that layer of humor there was still a lycan with a fierce temper.

Magnus snorted, itching to crack his twin's skull open one more time.