Zara’s POV
Greyson’s room was too warm.
Too large.
Too familiar.
Which was ridiculous, because I had not spent enough time here to call it familiar.
And yet—
His scent was everywhere.
Cedar. Rain. Wolf. Heat.
Annoyingly distracting.
He shut the door behind us and immediately began pacing.
That should have comforted me.
Instead, it made me nervous.
“You do realize,” I said, leaning against the edge of his desk, “that pacing makes you look unhinged.”
“It helps me think.”
“It makes you look like you’re deciding who to kill first.”
“I am.”
I blinked.
“…That was not reassuring.”
He stopped moving and looked at me.
“Good.”
Impossible man.
I folded my arms.
“So what now?”
“Now,” he said evenly, “you rest.”
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“That tone.”
“What tone?”
“The one
