The Last Howl
The scent of pine and warm summer rain rolled off him, heavy and intoxicating.
He leaned in close, his gaze dropping to my chin for a fraction of a second before meeting my eyes.
"You're a long way from the Ashford Pack house, Bellona," he murmured, his voice incredibly low. "And you're playing a very dangerous game."
A defensive spark flared in my chest, but my heart was drumming a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "I don't know what you're talking about." What in the world was he on about? I didn't do anything that would put me in the spotlight, and yet here I was.