Gunnar didn't move at Arlo’s mocking words through the wood. He just stared at me, his massive frame still trapping me against the door, preventing the handle from turning even an inch.
The suffocating scent of cedar, fresh rain, and the metallic tang of his raw alpha pheromones flooded my senses, dizzying and thick. His grip on the back of my neck loosened slightly, his rough thumb tracing the fragile line of my jawline, though the dangerous blood-red in his eyes didn't fade.
"Did Arlo touch you?" he repeated, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly vibration that rattled straight through my ribs.
My heart plunged into a terrifying freefall. I was certain he could hear its frantic rhythm. Butterflies, reckless, sweet, and entirely inappropriate for a girl pinned under a monster's shado
