Much to my preference, the night was dead silent.
Aside from all the hugs and screams of joy I received from Bob at dinner earlier, the manor was completely empty, almost as if everyone else had been barred from entering. This place used to be bustling with servants and maids, busy wiping the dust off the manor. Now, Tutu seems to be the busiest person—tiger—around.
I didn't mind the silence, though. Everything else had been too crazy these days, and a little silence and peace was all that I needed now. Silence and the comfort of the right people.
"The wind's a little strong tonight," Luke said from behind me, sliding a coat over my shoulders. "Good thing all of our coachmen are werewolves. Humans catch cold too easily."
"Are werewolves immune to colds?"
"No, not at all," he laughed. "Just that we're more resistant toward it. I once caught a really bad cold, I thought I was going to die."
