How does one handle a temperamental wolf?
Take Aries, for example.
When he's not basking in the attention people give me because of him, he's angry. Not just any kind of anger—an ancient, bone-deep rage that rattles through my very core, burning hot and violent.
And when he's not angry, he's sad. Depressed, even. Almost suicidal.
And now, suddenly, I have to deal with that.
I stare out of Caspian's window, my head resting against the soft pillows. The sky is a dull shade of blue, the kind that promises a slow morning.
I want to move, to get up, but there's a pull in my bones, a heavy weight pressing me down.
Aries.
He's feeling lazy.
I groan and try to push past it, but it's like trying to wade through knee-deep water.
"Aries, I have to go see Cassidy."
"You don't have to see anybody," he drawls. "You are superior now. Let them come to you."