Inked

themselves of it quickly, their systems often focus on it to the exclusion of other, more serious damage. Not in a predictable way, though.”
    “Because lupus healing varies.”
    “The effect varies even for the same lupus. One time a lupus might heal a wound almost normally soon after ingesting a dose. Another time, the same lupus may fail to heal even a trivial wound.”
    Lily was reminded of the mate bond. It, too, was unpredictable. “What about injecting it? Does that make a difference?”
    “It can’t be injected—not if you want to affect healing, that is. When wolfbane is altered, the effects change in myriad ways, and there is no key active ingredient that can be extracted. To retard healing, you have to use fresh leaves or flowers.”
    “Not the seeds or roots?”
    “No. And no, I don’t know why. Either of those will cause a form of bane sickness, but it’s much briefer and doesn’t seem to affect healing.”
    “Are the effects the same for all the aconite species?”
    “As far as we know, though the severity of the symptoms varies.”
    Rule was moving down the aisle now. Lily tapped her pen on her notebook. “It sounds like there’s no reason to assume Steve Hilliard was given gado. Wolfbane would have had the same effect as far as the tattoo goes.”
    “Well…yes. Though gado is much more effective. It blocks all of a lupus’s magic, not just the healing, and the effect lasts much longer.”
    “But it’s a hell of a lot harder to get hold of or to make.”
    “True.”
    “Thanks, Nettie. I’ll keep you posted.” Lily disconnected, her lips thin. The tapping picked up pace.
    Damn him. He hadn’t lied, no. He’d just led her to believe something that wasn’t entirely true.
    Rule had stopped a couple seats up and was signing an autograph for a young woman with tightly kinked orange hair. The stewardess hovered behind him, smiling in an infatuated way. “You’re sure you don’t mind?” she asked, handing him a scrap of paper.
    Rule didn’t. He seldom did. His fame—or notoriety—was part of his father’s plan to integrate lupi with human society, and Rule had known he would be the public face for his people long before he met Lily. Before the Supreme Court’s decision made it safe to announce his heritage to the world, in fact.
    He made a gorgeous public face. His features were sharp and elegant in a way the camera loved, with dramatic eyebrows and cheekbones. His body wasn’t bad, either, if you went for long, lean, and powerful with the innate grace of an athlete.
    Which, from what Lily could see, 99.9 percent of heterosexual women did.
    Lily couldn’t see who sat beside the woman with the orange hair, but it was another female, judging by the muffled voice. Rule leaned across the first woman and patted the other one somewhere—her shoulder, probably.
    He didn’t look like a man sternly suppressing the beast inside—a wolf who did not like being trapped in a metal cage. He did have some tells, but they were too subtle for even her to spot them unless she was close.
    “I don’t suffer from motion sickness myself,” he said, “but Lily usually travels with some candied ginger, just in case. Shall I ask her if she has some?”
    Lily heard the woman’s words clearly this time. “Lily? Who’s she?”
    Rule smiled. “My beloved.”
    He said that naturally, too. Just as if everyone talked that way.
    Lily could imagine the woman’s disappointed expression. She’d seen it often enough on other female faces. Even women who weren’t making a serious play for Rule enjoyed thinking they might be able to have him, if they tried. Lupi were notoriously promiscuous.
    Except for Rule. Not anymore, that is.
    He signed one more autograph, then at last slid into the seat beside Lily with a faint sigh. She caught a faint whiff of the honey and citrus scent of his shampoo. He’d switched recently because she loved citrus scents.
    He made it hard to stay mad, dammit.
    “Why,” he murmured, “do people troubled by motion sickness feel impelled to tell everyone about their symptoms?”
    “Did she want the ginger?”
    “No.” He looked at her, his brows drawing together. “You’re upset.”
    “What I am, is pissed. You manipulated me.”
    His eyebrows snapped down. “What are you talking about?”
    “You led me to think gado was probably involved. Wolfbane is a lot more likely, but you never mentioned it. I wouldn’t have cause to investigate the use of wolfbane, would