The Wolf Princess. Karen Whiddon

careful to keep all traces of bitterness from his voice. “Past tense. Before the explosion, I was an excellent neurosurgeon, working in Denver. One of the top ones, at least among the Pack. Three days a week, I’d operate on someone’s brain, or spine, or peripheral nerves. I also taught medical students and gave some lectures to residents. In my spare time, I did research for the Pack.”

      “Spare time? That sounds like you didn’t have much.”

      He shrugged. “I did what I could when I could. I was happy. I made good money, so my wife was happy as well.”

      “Wife?” A certain watchful stillness came over her voice. “I didn’t know you were married.”

       Chapter 5

      He forced a smile, trying to swallow. Again he had that awful taste in his mouth, like copper. This happened more and more frequently whenever he tried to relive the past. “Again, past tense. I was married. I’m not now. She left me immediately after the accident, and filed for divorce before the week was over.”

      If she had comments on what kind of woman would do such a thing, she didn’t voice them. He supposed he shouldn’t be disappointed.

      “I’m sorry,” she said instead, the warmth in her voice making his wolf nudge him playfully.

      A simple, heartfelt response. He welcomed it, glad she didn’t ask him a thousand follow-up questions that he had no desire to answer.

      Yet. He waited, and still she said nothing else.

      Despite that, or maybe because of it, he found himself continuing. “I met Camille—my ex-wife—when I was in residency. She was a nurse, a newly minted RN. Looking back, I think she loved the idea of being married to a doctor. I’m not sure she ever entirely loved me for who I am rather than what I was.”

      And when he’d been unable to be her status symbol, when his hope of resuming his career as a top neurosurgeon had disappeared, so had Camille. In reflection, he hadn’t even really been surprised.

      When Alisa squeezed his shoulder, he realized how tense he’d gotten and tried to force himself to relax.

      “Was your ex Pack, too? Or human?”

      “Oh, she was Pack. She was a full-blooded shifter, not a Halfling like me.” And later, when the divorce was under way and he’d dared disagree with something she’d wanted, she’d thrown that up against him, as if his bloodline was something to be ashamed of.

      For all he knew, most full-blooded shifters secretly looked down on Halflings. He had no way of knowing.

      Raising his head, he debated asking. But Alisa was not only a full-blood, but a princess. Definitely not the right person to answer. And really, what did it matter now? He was what he was. That part of himself he couldn’t change. He had much more pressing issues to worry about.

      While lost in his thoughts, to his shock, Alisa got out of her chair and hugged him, letting him know without words that her spirit was nothing like Camille’s. Either that, he thought wryly, or he really was a sap.