“Holding Hawke’s gaze in a way that not many men could, Walker said, “You will be good to her.” Not a statement, but an order. Hawke’s wolf stirred. “Do you think I’d be otherwise?” “If I did, you’d be dead.”

“He said that men believe the blood of the slain to be of no consequence but that the wolf knows better. He said that the wolf is a being of great order and that it knows what men do not: that there is no order in this world save that which death has put there.”

“If I knew what you’d do, exactly when you knew what you’d do, then I’d either be you or I’d be God. And we both know I’m not you.”

“What did she do that made her happy? The question implied action, a conscious purpose. She did many things in a day, and many things made her happy, but that, Claire could tell, wasn’t the issue. Nor the only one, Claire realized. Because in order to consciously do something that made you happy, you’d have to know who you were. Trying to figure that out these days was like fishing on a lake on a moonless night—you had no idea what you would get.”

“I think I’d rather be branded than submit to some of the things that you have to.” He said this without spite, just a soft statement of fact. “I’m not strong enough to do that.”

“You asked him to go to bed with you?”“I did, and you’d think I’d smashed him in the balls with my wrench. So that’s the end of that.”Jude folded her hands, leaned forward. “I’m going to pry.”Brenna’s lips twitched. “Oh, you haven’t started that yet?”“Not nearly. What exactly did you say to him?”“I said, plain enough, that I thought we should have sex. And what’s wrong with that?” she demanded, gesturing with her spoon. “You’d think a man would appreciate clear, honest speaking.”