The outrage in Iva’s voice struck Caleb like a spark thrown into dry tinder.
For a brief, dangerous moment his temper flared.
His jaw tightened, the muscles in his shoulders drawing taut as something primal stirred beneath his skin. Her accusation, the sharpness of her tone, the way her eyes flashed at him as if she had the right to challenge him—every bit of it scraped directly against the instincts of the Lycan inside him.
Chaos did not like being challenged.
Not by anyone.
Especially not by the fragile girl sitting in his bed wearing his shirt.
A dark edge crept into Caleb’s expression, and for a heartbeat his instinct was simple and brutal: to remind her exactly who she was speaking to, to reassert control, to put her firmly back in her place before her defiance pushed him past t
