Dinner was a trap. Mara made sure of it.
Long table with Fifty wolves. All eyes on my neck and On him. On the six inches of space between us that felt like a noose.
“Let them see,” Mara had said. So he did.
Zevran’s chair at the head. My chair at his right hand. The place an Alpha’s mate would sit. The place I didn’t belong.
The mark burned under the light. Dark. Wet-looking. Like he’d just touched it. He had, two hours ago. Cold water only, he’d said. But cold water didn’t stop skin from remembering heat.
I kept my eyes down and Ate nothing. The smell of roast meat and blood turned my stomach. Omega scent still unstable two days after that heat. My body was stupid and my control was thin.
Zevran didn’t eat either,He only drank one glass of dark wine. Then another. Like he needed som
