Oliver's POV
I sat perfectly still, my fork resting against the edge of my plate, watching the color drain from Aurora's face.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a heavy, panicked rhythm that I refused to let show in my expression. I saw the way she chewed that second bite, the way her brow furrowed in a confusion that was rapidly turning into suspicion.
I knew she had recognized it. It was a habit, a reflex of my hands that I hadn't even thought to hide. I had made this for her in that small kitchen when I was just Raymond, the masked Dom.
My wolf was snarling, pacing a tight circle in the back of my mind. I had been too careless. I had cooked with my heart instead of my head, and now it was betraying me.
"What is it?" I asked, keeping my voice low and steady. "You don't like it?"
