Damien's POV
I was only teasing her. That's the truth of it. I knew exactly how Sofia would react—snapping at me, glaring at me with that anger in her eyes, ready to spit instead of bend. And damn, I wanted it. I wanted to see that spark. To feel it. Once upon a time, I used to find it amusing—the way she'd hum in annoyance, the way her temper would flare over the smallest things. I'd poke at her on purpose, just to watch her unravel. Back then, it wasn't just funny. It was addictive. Even now, years later, nothing's changed. She's still the only one who can look me in the eye without fear. Still the only one who can raise her voice to me and make my wolf fall silent instead of raging. Still the only one who can make me want to push, just to hear her snap back. And when she does—when that sharp tongue lashes out at me—it feels like home.
I leaned against the desk, watching her glare at me for what I had just said.
