Jarek's mouth was set in a grim line, but it wasn't his expression that stopped me. It was his teeth. His fangs, those long, sharp ivory points that had been grazing my neck moments ago were still almost fully extended.
"Your fangs," I whispered, my brow furrowing. "Jarek, why aren't they... why are they still there?"
He stiffened, his hand flying to his mouth as if he'd forgotten they were even there. He turned his head away, a muscle leaping in his jaw. "It's nothing. Just the adrenaline. It takes a moment to settle."
"No," I said, taking a cautious step back toward him. My curiosity was momentarily louder than my guilt. "You're a King. You've had your wolf under control for years. Why aren't they retracting?"
I watched him. I watched his throat work as he swallowed, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. I could see the strain in his neck, the way his knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the desk.
