Our encounter in the hallway replays in my mind. His wolf flickering in his eyes. His hand on the wall beside my head.
‘You’re making it very hard to stay noble, querida.’
I turn away before he can catch me staring.
The evening moves along in a blur of small talk and champagne and the kind of exhausting social navigation that makes me appreciate Knox’s permanent scowl.
He’s better at this than he pretends — knows exactly when to be charming and when to be intimidating, how to work a room without looking like he’s working it.
I try to follow his lead, but my mind keeps wandering. To the herbs I swallowed this afternoon. Do I tell Knox? To Queenie’s too-bright smile. I’d have to confront her at some point. To Rafael’s… What even was that?
And of course, to the dinner with Harrison Craw
