~Morgan's Point Of View~
Morgan leans back against the polished wood of the study's banister, his hands loosely gripping the railing as his mind churns with the delicious chaos of the evening. He can feel the faint pulse of his wolf, Luke, rattling against his ribs like a caged beast, urging him to snap, bite, and crush.
Every glance at Amias, Darien, and Grayson is a fucking trigger: a small pinprick against his facade of nonchalance, lazy charm, and careless amusement. And yet, no matter how much they get on his nerves or how hard his hands demand blood, the mask is perfect.
His smirk is perfect. His eyes are half-lidded and his body is relaxed. He radiates that easy arrogance that makes people underestimate just how lethal he really is.
