Concern wrapped in rough velvet.
I looked up automatically.
Big mistake.
Because Sten’s full attention hit like physical impact.
“I-I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “I have so many questions.”
My voice sounded smaller than I intended.
Not weak.
Just overwhelmed.
And honestly?
How could I not be?
Yesterday this male had nearly beaten a Werewolf unconscious over a disgusting comment aimed at me.
Then today Professor Kenna all but confirmed he was at Runevald because his power was unstable enough to be dangerous.
And somehow—somehow none of that changed the fact I still wanted him desperately.
Wanted his mouth.
Wanted his hands.
Wanted the terrifying possessive warmth in his eyes whenever he looked at me.
Gods.
What was wrong with me?
“I imagine you do, Luna,” he murmured.
The nickname softened the edges of my spiraling thoughts instantly.
Sten slowed his stride then.
Stopped completely.
And those luminous cobalt eyes lifted fully to mine.
Pinning me in place.
I’d never been looked at the way Sten looked at me.
Never.
Not once in thirty years of living.
There was hunger in his gaze, yes.
No point pretending otherwise.
Sten looked at me like he wanted me.
