"Last full moon?" Lynsandra whispered, her voice carried by the steam rising from the tub she was submerged in. She narrowed her eyes, Minnie's words replaying in the back of her mind.
"Was I wrong, Enlly?" She tilted her head slightly. "That's weird."
But even with her confusion, Enlly remained silent. As usual. What else did Lynsandra expect from her menopausal wolf other than to keep her mouth shut when she needed her voice the most?
Her arms rested on the rim of the tub, her temple propped against her thumb. She closed her eyes and whispered,
"Victor?" She snorted softly. "No way it was him."
No way Lynsandra was wrong.
She had been with Victor for three years, and never once had she felt anything remotely like that with him. What they had was choice, not fate. No matter how intimate they had been in the past, there was never anything like that.
