JACK-EYE
She pushes back against my hand, trying to force my fingers inside. I pull back again, denying her. Her growl of frustration sends a shiver down my spine.
"I thought you were going to wash out my mouth." She's trying to provoke me, challenge me. "Or are you all talk, wolf?"
In response, I let my dominance pour out of me like smoke—thick, suffocating, filling the air between us. It rolls over her skin, a ripple of goosebumps rising in its wake as it presses against her like an invisible hand.
I've never seen a non-wolf react to alpha energy like this. This is a trick that works on betas, omegas—pack members who recognize the hierarchy. Humans might fall beneath it, might struggle to breathe and be crushed by its pressure, but they don't feel it like we do. Like more than just a wave of heavy, crushing weight.
But Lyre's back arches under it, her breath coming faster.
