What had changed? It was a good question. A very good question, indeed. Something had, even if I couldn't put my finger on it. Maybe it was the realization that with whatever voodoo shit Asher was playing with, I could actually die, or maybe it was watching Clarke, the take-everything-in-his-stride puppy so loved up.

"I don't want you as my Beta, Jonathan," I repeated. The headlights of Clarke's fuck-ugly Juke flicked around the corner, worming its way into an empty bay. I ignored it, holding my Beta's gaze. If I didn't know better, I could have sworn there were tears in his eyes.

"Yeah, you said, asshole. Why do it...