She felt his eyes on her still: unblinking, uninvited, and operating on pure 'I dare you to look back' energy.
Heat climbed her neck and settled in her cheeks and she was furious about it because blushing in a council chamber full of Alphas was the political equivalent of bleeding in shark water.
She was sitting in a chair she wasn't invited to, bleeding from a throat a king had cut, blushing from a gaze a different king wouldn't stop aiming at her. Peak performance.
She glanced up.
He was looking away.
But his entire goddamn pack was staring at her.
Twelve wolves were fixed on her with faces ranging from stunned to fascinated to the forced blankness of men actively fighting the urge to lean forward.
