Isaac had known, deep down, that Derek wouldn't get rid of him. Even if it was for all the wrong reasons, his Master had sworn to keep him, for as long as he needed to be kept. There had just been a flash of self-doubt, that seemed to plague Isaac.
"Thank you, Ma'am," he said, curling in against her. It felt odd to be cuddling with someone who ran cooler than a werewolf normally did, but Mistress Martin smelled nice, and she had given him such lovely pain.