The purple liquid dripped down his shocked features, staining his fine tunic. His expression—pure, slack-jawed disbelief—was almost worth the five cycles of lies.
I smiled, letting my canines show just slightly.
"What a coincidence."
"Rogan Ashfen."
"Of all the dens and taverns in our territory, you picked my pack gathering spot to parade your scent-betrayal. Should I compliment your taste in meeting places, or should I compliment—"
My gaze dropped to the empty wine goblet, the remnants of the supposedly deadly drink still glistening on its rim. The mockery rose like bile in my throat.
"—your miraculous recovery from that moonpetal allergy?"
"Rogan!"
I grabbed the second goblet of wine, ready to drench him again—but his hand shot out with Alpha speed and clamped around my wrist, his grip bruising.
"Selene!"
"Let me explain!"
I stared at the hand Rogan had clamped around my wrist—his ring finger still bearing the mating band that matched mine, the silver engraved with our bonded pack sigils. Watching the panic flicker across his face, the fury I'd barely managed to suppress came roaring back, my wolf snarling beneath my skin.