Roman and Alaric swaggered out of the fitting room to the sharp glares waiting for them—Griffin Hale's, in particular.
"You do know…" Griffin began, his voice gruff and his breathing heavier than usual, "I can feel everything when you mess with that mating rune."
Roman raised a brow, clearly intrigued. "Interesting," he murmured, a wicked thought already forming at the back of his mind.
Still, he gave an easy shrug. "I had the main course, that's on him." He tossed the blame without shame, gesturing casually to Alaric.
Alaric didn't even deny it. "I'm not even sorry. Our girlfriend had a good time." He looked far too pleased with himself.
As if summoned, Violet appeared, and just like that, four pairs of eyes locked onto her at once, drawn like moths to flame.
Violet paused, slightly taken aback by the intensity of their stares, then she squared her shoulders and walked forward confidently.
Still, just to be sure, Violet asked, "Do we have a problem?"
