Cirian leans back in his chair, fingers tracing the rim of his wine glass. The soft candlelight flickers across his face, sharpening the angles of his jawline and casting shadows under his eyes.
“You know,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “the first time I saw you, I thought you were going to kill a man.”
I blink at him, startled by the statement. My fork hovers over the plate as I meet his gaze. “What?”
His smile lingers for a moment, but there’s something wistful in his expression. “It was outside your pack’s border. I’d been tracking a rogue, hoping to bring him into my fold, but I lost him in the woods.”
The fi
