“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”
The voice came from the shadows, smooth and edged with something sharp. I froze, my fingers just inches from the goblet resting on the table before me. The scent of spiced wine lingered in the air, but now, it carried something else—something bitter, something wrong.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze.
The man who spoke stepped forward, the dim candlelight flickering over his scarred face. His eyes were the color of iron, cold and unreadable, but his lips curled with amusement as he studied me.
I didn’t recognize him.
That alone made him dangerous.
I pushed the goblet away, never breaking eye contact. “Who are you?”
He tilted his head slightly, the smirk deepening. “A friend. Maybe.”
My wolf bristled at the word. I had no friends outside my pack—certain
