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Hagen’s P.O.V

I stare at the bowl in front of me, frowning as Nikola dutifully mixes the golden mixture with a thick paintbrush.

“You look like you want to throw up,” he murmurs without even bothering to spare a glance.

“I don’t,” I probably did. I try to tame my frown, but it’s impossible. “I don’t want to throw up. I just… don’t know if this is a good idea.”

Attention still fixed on his bowl, he replies, “You told me you wanted to make a good impression.”

“I do.”
I wanted to suss out Peter’s mate and make sure he was good enough for him, but I also wanted to make sure I didn’t show up like some wet dog that would make Peter embarrassed to have any of us around again.