"Nigel?" I couldn't help staring, my wolf tense and alert, as he stood beside the sleek gray sports car. He smiled, that boyish, irresistible grin that made my chest tighten, and held open the passenger door. In his other hand, he carried a bouquet of roses, which he extended toward me like a peace offering—or a challenge.
"Here. It's for you," he said softly, his amber eyes locked on mine.
My brows furrowed in confusion. "Why are you giving me these flowers?" I asked, taking the bouquet carefully, my wolf humming nervously in my chest.
He let out a breath, close, intimate, like the warning growl of a wolf before it marks its mate. "Do you like them?" His voice carried warmth, but beneath it was that protective, claiming edge only a wolf could give. "Let's have dinner tonight."
