“I have told you over and over that my wolves are different. Our full moon craving can be satisfied with blood. No death involved.”
“The Inuit give you blood,” Alex clarified. “Like some full moon communion?”
“If you like.” His lips tightened. “You really thought I’d let my wolves kill one person a month?”
“You let me kill someone,” Alex said softly.
He looked away. “That was different.”
“Oh, right. I needed to understand.” Alex allowed the full weight of her sarcasm to fall on the last word.
“Yes,” he agreed. “But I didn’t have much choice once I’d made you.”
“You could have not made me,” Alex muttered.
Barlow ignored her. “Every new wolf must kill the first time or embrace madness. Even my wolves, if that initial kill isn’t accomplished, become killing machines ever after.”
“You think that’s what happened to the wolf that’s stalking the Inuit?”
“No. All of the wolves here were made by me and brought into this life with their consent.”
“Not all,” she said.
“All the ones that count.”
Well, she’d asked for that. “Were every one of your wolves given a very bad man as their first meal?”
“Not every one.”
“When did you grow a conscience?”
His eyes narrowed. “I became a werewolf in the ninth century. Conscience was a little different back then.”
“I suppose you just tossed them a conquered captive and called it a day.”
When he didn’t answer, she knew she was right. She also knew that living for eons meant that a lot of things had changed, including how people viewed right and wrong. Judging a Viking with the mores of the twenty-first century was as backward as he had once been.
She didn’t like cutting Barlow any slack, but to be fair she had to.
“You’re certain none of your wolves might have made another and let him or her run wild, so to speak?”
“They wouldn’t dare.”
Alex snorted. She couldn’t help it. “Not everyone is as beta as you think.”
She could tell by the way he went silent and still that she’d gotten him thinking. She decided to leave him to it.
“I’m going back to Ella’s,” Alex said. If she didn’t sleep soon, she just might fall on her face.
Julian glanced up. “Don’t tell anyone who you are.”
She’d been headed for the door but turned at his arrogant command. “I think that ship has sailed.”
His eyes flared. “Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t. You introduced me the instant we got into town.”
“Oh.” He let out a quick, sharp breath that blew a stray strand of golden hair away from his face. “Your name. That’s all right. But don’t tell anyone why you’re here.”