She refused to move into his arms, “Until you tell me why you want to meet the witch during the wee-hours of tonight. Is that what you do every other night?”

　　Conroy threw his head back in laughter, “I spend every night in your chambers—on your bed, buried to the hilt inside you and then watch you slumber, carried by the fleeting wings of drowsiness. Even if I am a wolf, a magical creature, I cannot split myself on your bed and hers.”

　　“I never accused ...