People thought the worst thing about Max was that the man could tear apart the fabric of reality. But that wasn’t it. No, if bad guys came into his café, Max would simply stand up, saunter over and activate his true power – sublime, capital Q, Queeniest Cattiest Bitchiness. He might not actually be a werewolf bitch, but Max had a beastly tongue, and admirable skill at applying it. He was a weapon of mass discussion. Colin lived in fear and awe.
