"What do you want to know?"
Noah knelt at the edge of the furs, his golden eyes searching mine. He looked exhausted, but there was a new weight in his gaze—something regal that I had missed because I was too busy watching him pout and flirt.
"First," I opened my mouth to speak but the first thing that came out was quite silly. "Why are you called a silver wolf?"
Noah blinked, looking puzzled, as if the question caught him off guard like, 'What sort of question was that?'
Then, he laughed.
"It's not funny. This is no laughing matter." I said and he nodded.
"They call me that cause they believe I'm 'special'." He said but I made no sense to that.
"Hm, is it more special than the fact that they call you a 'king'?" I asked and watched his shoulder stiffen. "Is there something I missed when I was passed out after delivery, or is this something you should've told me, like, I don't know, the day after we met?"
