Beneath the Wolf Moon
Someone—or something—was out there.
I stepped back toward the door, my breath catching. Before I could move further, the shadows shifted, and a figure emerged from the treeline. My stomach dropped.
It wasn’t a pack member.
The man’s eyes glowed faintly, but not with the warm gold of Jaxon’s wolves. These burned a cold, unnatural green. His smile stretched too wide, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight.
“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice carrying an eerie, rasping quality that made my skin crawl. “The little human pet.”
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