Favorra became an unshakable stone, a block to which my consciousness nestled. His feelings could definitely be called stable. Very stable.

But not calm.

I gasped, trying to figure out what happened.

The werewolf buried his nose in my forehead and ragged, sharply breathing. He was furious.

Did they recognize me? Got it, finally?

The thought popped up at the edge of my mind, without bothering me at all. Now I was hanging outside of my own feelings, like a giant spider holding a scattered web, detachedly assessing the situation, for the first time not letting the currents pass through me.

Unfamiliar people wriggled around, swayed and hugged in a...