“The shift isn’t easy for all werewolves to control.”
“Well, if he doesn’t get it under control, he won’t even be able to live a normal life. The Double O could find out at any minute, and then he’d be in true danger.”
Knowing he failed to help her brother stung. But truthfully, Reeve hadn’t had hope from the start. Antony’s transformation wasn’t like his own.
“I can’t stay for much longer, kitten.”
“Kitten?” she asked uncertainly at the new nickname as she angled her head and looked up at him.
He smiled. “You’re just so. . .feisty.” His eyes moved to Spinel. “Like your new friend here.”
When he looked back down at her, her expression had shifted. He, too, realized their lips' close proximity. He bargained with himself, as he had been doing for weeks now, that denying himself her taste would keep him safe. That if he just saw her one more time, he could cut it off. If he just brought her one more gift, he could say goodbye. If he brushed his fingers across her cheek one final time, he could walk away with closure.
“Is it true what my father says?” she asked, breaking their silence, still looking up at him. “You can turn into a winged beast?”
He nodded, bringing his palm to her cheek.
“So right now, you could just turn?” she asked with a snap of her fingers.
“No. It takes a great deal of rage for me to transform. And right now, I feel completely content.”
A small chuckle left her throat, but her eyes still begged with innocence that made him speechless.
“Let down your walls,” she said. “I want to talk to you.”
“We’re talking right now,” he said lowly.
“I want to hear you in my head.”
Reeve pulled back, leaning far enough away from her to take in her whole face, still stroking her cheek with ease. The snake was asking to sink its teeth into him, unaware it had venom. Letting down his mental shields for her, a girl with Shadow Magic buried in her blood, was idiotic.
But her eyes made him brainless.
And so he did.
She bit her lip and took a steadying breath as he opened his mind for her. He understood at once why she wanted to hear his voice in her head. Because her voice in his was heavenly. It was visceral, soaring through his insides as she said.
I want to see you in that magnificent dragon form one day.
He could smell her from across the ballroom, where she danced with Abraxas. It was so overwhelmingly sweet, he couldn’t even pinpoint it. He just knew that it was her. It was she who drove him mad. It was she who had him coming back to this damn realm.
Ambrose had joined him at his side moments ago, remaining silent as Reeve unashamedly watched his daughter.
“You know what she is,” said Ambrose finally. “You know it, and yet nothing I say keeps your gaze from her.”
Reeve didn’t answer right away, despite just how correct Ambrose was. He knew that Maeve harbored Magic that should send him running. He knew just how delicate that Magic was.
Ambrose continued. “Not even a direct command to keep away from her it it seems.”
“Do not act as though it is me who you aim to protect,” muttered Reeve.
He turned towards Ambrose, pulling his gaze from Maeve. Ambrose’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
Reeve spoke casually. “It was you who came to be terrified of her mother. Not me.”
Ambrose’s Magic flared. “Don’t you dare talk about her so effortlessly.”
“Don’t you dare forget what I did for you that day, Ambrose. It is because of me she lived to birth Maeve at all.”
