The space between Duncan’s calloused fingers and the edge of Hazel’s silver visor felt entirely too thin. The unique, biting scent of sweet lilies seemed to multiply in the narrow granite cell.
Duncan’s bloodshot golden eyes were wide, round, and swimming with a sudden, earth-shaking suspicion. His nostrils violently flared as he leaned closer, his primitive wolf spirit roaring a deafening howl inside his mind.
"Lift your visor," Duncan commanded again, his voice dropping into a dangerous, weeping whisper that made the drafts in the cell turn to absolute ice. "Let me see your face right now."
Hazel did not breathe. She kept her hands folded rigidly over her iron sword hilt, her muscles locking into absolute steel. If his fingers touched the latch, if he lifted the silver casing to see h
