Roisin
Intense gray eyes locked onto me as he came to a halt just a breath away. He was striking; painfully so. Long black hair fell in layered waves, styled in a wolf cut with short, disheveled bangs grazing his forehead. His jaw was a sharp blade, his nose straight and defined, thick lips set in a tight line, and high cheekbones that added to the chilling symmetry of his face.
But it was his eyes that gripped me—storm-gray irises that churned with a quiet, venomous fury.
He was not pleased.
The deep scowl that twisted across his features made that abundantly clear. The air around us grew heavier with each second. My heart sank.
Another mate. My second mate.
The thought alone made my stomach twist violently. This moment felt horribly familiar—ominous, like a prelude to rejection. Ju
