I took a deep breath and turned to face him, my expression carefully neutral. "I thought you don't like black coffee."
When those words reached him, he didn't respond. But his jaw tightened, the muscle feathering beneath his skin. Both of us knew the truth. He hated black coffee, yet I had always forced him to drink it every single morning.
I knew the bitterness helped him endure the crushing weight of leading a pack built on aggression and blood-debts. The caffeine steadied his nerves before council gatherings and territorial disputes. This morning, I chose not to care.
I ignored his darkening gaze and downed my cup in one swift gulp. The heat burned a path down my throat, grounding me. Then I placed my plate in the sink and grabbed my satchel from the hook by the door.
"Let me take you to the den."
I didn't wait for his permission as I strode toward the door.
Behind me, I caught his voice offering me a ride to the den. I dismissed it as a trick of my heightened hearing. To be honest, Caspian had never once bothered to share a transport with me. Not in all the years I had been at his side.