The forest air was cold and laced with the scent of dew and danger. Damon stood at the edge of Moonbound territory, a black leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders, his wolf restless beneath his skin. Talia stood beside him, her long dark hair braided over her shoulder, silent but alert. She hadn’t asked questions—she never did unless she thought it mattered—but he knew she was brimming with curiosity.
She always was.
He exhaled. “You still have time to back out,” he said gruffly, not meeting her eyes.
“I didn’t ask to come,” she replied coolly. “You told me to get in the car. I just listened.”
Damon turned to look at her now. Her tone wasn't bitter, only honest. Talia was honest in ways that were disarming. She didn’t flatter him or fear him, and he couldn’t decide if that made her
