"Me." My voice was flat, final, and full of conviction. "You know I'm the one you're punishing."
Dawn's lips curved into a slow, predatory smile—the kind that showed a flash of perfect white canines and made the small hairs on my arms stand on end. It wasn't a smile of mirth or warmth; it was the satisfied smirk of a wolf who had cornered his prey.
"You're very full of yourself, little doe," he murmured, his voice laced with mocking affection. He stood then, and the simple act of him rising from the chair seemed to diminish the entire room. He was a colossal figure, all corded muscle and controlled, lethally coiled power, easily eclipsing the heavy leather chair he'd just vacated. The movement was slow, deliberate, a warning in itself. He walked with the heavy, silent grace of a hunter, and with every step he took toward me, the air thickened.
