My fingers drop from the back of her neck instantly. Too fast. Damn it.
Her eyes widen for a second — surprised. Then something sharper slips into them. Calculation. A scheming gleam that makes dread claw up my spine.
“It would make me very happy,” she says suddenly, voice bright and innocent, “if you let me leave.”
The growl tears from my chest before I even register it. An enraged roar.
The walls tremble. The air warps with magic.
She stumbles back two steps, but I’m already there, closing the distance in a blink.
“Don’t talk about leaving again,” I snarl, voice vibrating with barely leashed rage.
“Okay, okay! Damn it — freaking lycans!” She throws her hands up, then drags one through her hair, pacing fast. “Fine. I want my own room. A big one. Far away from yours. In another wing of the palace, actually. And access to the palace library.”
She turns, finger stabbing the air like a declaration of war.
“That includes the restricted scrolls and manuscripts. And I want to speak to the High Priestess.”
She crosses her arms, chin tilted high.
“Those are my conditions.”
I nod once. Silent.
She’s plotting something — I can see it ticking behind her eyes.
She clearly just made a plan inside that beautiful head of hers to get away from me somehow.
I just need my plan to be better.
Chapter 4
Kassira
The moment we step out of Draven’s bedroom, we stop dead.
The hallway is packed. Wall to wall with soldiers — all armed, tense, eyes darting between me and the man at my side like they’re waiting for another explosion. One wrong move, and this corridor turns into a battlefield.
Standing at the front, just a few feet from the door, is a tall, dark-haired man with eerie green eyes and a death grip on the hilt of a massive sword strapped to his hip. His magic buzzes faintly in the air. Dangerous. On edge.
I’ve seen him before. Once in the royal town. And again at that cursed ballroom.
Draven’s Beta.
“Drev,” the man says slowly, voice calm but tight. “You good?” His gaze flicks over me, then settles on Draven again — calculating, alert.
“Take your hand off the sword, Sin,” Draven sighs. “I’m back. Mostly.” His voice carries the edge of a threat — and something bitter. “Good thing you guys managed to protect my mate, huh?”
The sarcasm is a dagger wrapped in velvet.
Sin straightens immediately, spine snapping into perfect posture as outrage flashes across his face. “From an ancient lycan beast with dragon wings and giant talons?” He throws his hands in the air. “We’re lucky you didn’t turn us all into pastrami!”
His eyes sharpen with curiosity. “Seriously, what the hell was that? Since when can you shift? And not just any shift — a goddamn ancient lycan?!”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he tilts his head and looks at me with a crooked smile that would probably charm most women.
“Apologies, beautiful.” Draven growls low in warning — I knew it was coming — but Sin ignores him entirely. “We really couldn’t get to you. Thirty men in the med bay right now thanks to our fearless king here,” he says, thumbing toward Draven. “And they’ll be out for days. That’s saying something, considering how fast wolves usually heal.”
