The wind cuts through the clearing, brisk without the warmth of the morning light that’s just beginning to awaken. It stirs the loose ends of my hair as I breathe in the possibilities of the morning.
My gaze moves to the shifter king, who somehow always manages to arrive earlier than me, despite mybest efforts. He stands at the edge of the structure with a cigarette pinched between two fingers. The burning embers at the end are a stark contrast to the approaching dawn. Smoke coils upward as he slowly exhales. Ever the silent sentinel, brooding like it earns him virtue.
“You may want to put that out before she arrives,” I offer, my voice edged with judgment.
No response. Not a glance. Not even a breath wasted in acknowledgment.
I can’t resist the bait that rises on my tongue.
My smile curves, slow and sharp. “Or don’t,” I add. “One less rival panting over my darling when she dismisses you as an option.”
That lands exactly as I knew it would.
The cigarette hisses as it’s flicked out and snuffed beneath his heel. “Your darling, huh?” he says as his glowing golden gaze slices toward me. “She didn’t seem to be yours when she chose the wraith.”
Perhaps that would have riled me if I hadn't gone to her room last night and saw firsthand the way she blossomed in my presence.
“She chose him as a safe option,” I murmur, letting the words coil between us. “She wasn’t ready to face what I incite within her, but I think that’s changing after last night.”
He steps toward me with a slow, controlled pace.
“If I hear of you pushing her past her boundaries,”he growls, voice low and lethal, “you won’t be able to outrun me before I snap your neck.”
I let the corner of my mouth lift. “You’d almost be endearing,” I murmur, “if your possessiveness weren’t sopredictablyprimitive.”
“I’m not possessive,” he snaps. “I’m protective of those my animal spirits claim as pack. There’s a difference you wouldn’t understand with your single-minded prey drive.”
I hum, soft and amused. “You would be shocked by the restraint I showed last night, with my prey.”
The silence that follows is charged and delight rolls through me at the thought of a quick skirmish, but then the air shifts.
The forest stills and the temperature drops a degree as shadows unfurl at the treeline, causing me to straighten.
She’s coming.
Just like that, everything else fades from my mind.
Azyric emerges first, solemn as a death sentence, cloaked in black as always. Shadows still lick at his arms, reluctant to release the delectable offering in his hands, which instantly peeves me. His expression is practically carved from stone–perpetually grim, as though smiling might splinter him.
I watch the darkness peel back and reveal the woman who has consumed all of the space in my mindsince finding her.
She walks a step in front of his looming presence, her dark cloak trailing like ink across the clearing. The wind catches the edge of it, lifting the fabric in a slow billow.
Then, her eyes find mine.
Not the archways of the structure Sylvin had raised. Not the forest. Not Torryn.
Me.
A feeling I thought long since dead rakes against the inside of my ribs: the need to claim.
My fangs descend without permission, as they did last night. I grit at the effort it takes to retract them.
Light creeps through the forest, illuminating her and worsening my need.
Dark black hair spills around her shoulders in loose waves, catching the pale morning light with a sheen that borders on blue. I forget how small and fragile she looks in comparison to our size, until I see the difference before my eyes. She’s delicate in stature, but not fragile. Slender, yes, but with soft, dangerous curves that speak of comfort and chaos in equal measure.
And those eyes…Hazel and glowing like the edge of dusk. It’s the kind of gaze you don’t just fall into–you willingly drown yourself in it.
