Logan's eyes darken at my challenge. They're not just green anymore—swirled with the kind of wild, primal gold which means his wolf is peering through the man. The air between us thickens, the room shrinking under the weight of everything unsaid. Tension coils tight, thrumming like a warning.
He doesn't answer me right away. Just stares. Down my body. Back to my eyes. Down again. As if he's memorizing the blueprint of my undoing.
My heart slams against my ribs. The silence hurts—full of heat and shame and hunger and the inescapable knowledge whatever happens next, there's no taking it back.
"Say it again," he says, low and rough.
Pride flares. So does something darker. Something inside me wants to be chased.
"Do something about it," I whisper. "I dare you."
That's all it takes.
