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“Miss Sanders, tell us why you killed your boyfriend.”
Fresh irritation swelled in my chest like heartburn, bringing with it the first twinges of a migraine behind my right eye. I turned away from the fall-color panorama visible through windows spanning the south wall of the dining room to stare down the long mahogany table at a much less pleasant sight: Calvin Malone, Alpha of the Appalachian territory. As I watched, the left corner of his mouth began to twitch above his thin, trim beard, a sure sign that he was having fun. The pompous bastard loved pushing my buttons. He’d just found the one labeled Use with Caution, then poked it anyway.
“Ex-boyfriend.” I spoke through gritted teeth, my hands clenched on my black cotton slacks. “And it was self-defense. Which you’d know if you’d listened the last time I answered that exact same question.”
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