Elliot
I slammed the shot glass onto the bar, the tequila burning my throat but doing little to douse the fire inside me. My wolf prowled beneath my skin, restless, snarling, demanding her presence. The absence of her scent—soft, floral, unforgettable—gnawed at him like an open wound.
Lila Emerson.
Her name was a curse and a prayer all at once, clawing at the edges of my sanity. She’d become a phantom haunting my every thought, her image seared into my mind no matter how hard I tried to erase it. My wolf howled for her, yet I was determined to resist the pull, to prove he was wrong. She wasn’t worthy of my obsession—of our obsession. She was the daughter of a traitor, a cheater. That was all she would ever be.
But my patience was wearing thin. Days of searching, tracking, interrogating
