Awareness kicked through me. My back prickled with heat and I knew without a shadow of a doubt who was glaring at me from behind. I looked over my shoulders. Kova. He was staring at me furiously, like he wanted to strangle me. The blood drained from my face, my weight slowly descending further on to the bar as trepidation flooded my veins. Kova glared from the sideline, his impenetrable gaze knocking the air from lungs. He'd heard everything, the entire conversation with Reagan. I was cold to the bone. Numb.
