Interacting with Nzingha felt . . . strange. That was the best word Danger could come up with when he thought about their nascent relationship, this thin little thread that had started out as nothing more than spider silk tying them to the same pack but now seemed to strengthen until the black dog actually felt a slight tug in his chest. A connection. As if he weren’t some poltergeist passively following the only two wolves he had any history with in this land, but a living, breathing creature capable of companionship. And since he still hadn’t mastered the art of conversation, Danger silently thought about this budding relationship a lot. It basically occupied his entire awareness when he wasn’t grunting out a half-hearted reply to Zing’s pushy one-sided conversations. Were they friends now? Certainly the onyx-painted princess pretended as if they were—she touched him casually, on purpose, and appeared to enjoy his company. Or if she didn’t exactly enjoy it, she felt entitled to it. Danger had trouble inventing reasons why Nzingha had tracked him so relentlessly these past few days. Her worry over his terrible state of health when they’d first arrived at Bright Moon couldn’t be explained by the mere fact they’d lived in the same territory. Wolves didn’t stalk prey they had no interest in.

What are we? The question swam in queasy circles through the dark zombie’s mind as the pair padded back to Munashii Gekko. He’d never had a real friend before . . . but at the same time, he refused to jump to conclusions. Suppose chatty, bold Zing just craved attention? Bright Moon had never been a large pack—at least not while Danger lived there—and it wouldn’t surprise him if the sassy lass was so starved for familiarity and companionship she latched onto the closest wolf available. That possibility hurt to think about. Which was, once again, very strange, because Danger had stopped caring about others wanting to befriend him a long time ago. It shouldn’t have bothered him to assume Nzingha had no deep interest in him. Of course she wouldn’t. Not for long. Except contemplating a day when he wouldn’t hear her paws shuffling as she tried to stealthily trail him through the forest made the thread tied around his heartstrings ache. He’d been so relieved to pull her from that vicious current. It had been so oddly comforting not to dream alone on their adventure back to Munashii Gekko.

When the two ravens crept back into Munashii’s gates, something close to regret twinged in Danger’s gut; he told himself it was residual guilt from having Zing nearly drown under his watch. He should be grateful, honestly, that he wasn’t returning empty-pawed . . .
The summoning howl shaking the sky nearly went unnoticed. If not for Zing brushing against his shoulder and darting ahead, Danger probably would have veered off in the direction of his den to punish himself for being an idiot. “Come on Danger. Let’s go see what has happened in our absence.” What could he say? “No”? And risk the young fae whirling on him in outrage? The sooty gladiator nodded and trotted after her meekly, all the while puzzling over the weird pull in his chest and his uncomfortable confusion and the way his scent and Zing’s intertwined like two vines climbing the same tree—

And then he practically tripped over her, the unpredictable girl pausing just as they were about to enter the pack meeting Danger could hear clearly up ahead. He swiveled his cranium in her general direction, his stomach sinking unpleasantly. Oh boy. Here it comes. The moment she dropped the friendly act because she’d decided he was a waste of time, just as everyone else had at some point in Danger’s life. Hey Danger, let’s not talk anymore, okay? Hey Danger, I think it might be a better idea if we show up to the pack meeting separately. Hey Danger, thanks for saving my life, but I’ve realized how weird you are and I think you should leave me alone. All things he should have faced with a heart of cold stone and acceptance. “Nzhingha,” he began, prepared to leave with some dignity. “I . . . wait, what?”

Her voice dipped off at the WORST possible part of her sentence, and Danger was CERTAIN she was going to mention how they’d curled up—completely innocently—those handful of nights they’d spent away from Munashii. Of course she would worry about the propriety of such contact! Of course she would want him to keep his trap shut about it! Imagine if anyone learned of this—they’d think Danger a filthy pervert and poor Zing’s reputation would be stained. Heat rushed to Danger’s flesh. “No, I would never.” His words were serious and carefully measured, portraying none of his mortification. It wasn’t until the damsel finished speaking that he understood her real meaning. Oh . . . right. The water. But what was the big deal? Why would Nzingha care if anyone found out about their impromptu swim?

His brow furrowed, perplexed. He opted to drop the matter for now, seeing as Zing was so adamant about him keeping their secret. When they peeled themselves from the briars and entered the meeting, Danger flicked his tail against the fairy’s side as affirmation he wouldn’t tell a soul before padding up to stand by Summer and Karla. “Danger,” he muttered as soon as his ex-King finished talking, bowing his crown toward the scent of Ameira and a new brute’s cologne. He saw no need to say anything else until he was directly spoken to; not as if he had much to say.