I heard a door slam. Someone else’s eyes on us.
“What is it?” I heard Professor Kenna ask distantly.
Everything sounded muffled.
Far away.
Like the entire world was fading except for him.
Sten’s arms.
Sten’s scent.
Sten’s glowing eyes fixed entirely on me.
“Mine,” he growled.
The word vibrated through me physically.
Gods.
The heat between my thighs intensified sharply at the sound.
“Menon—Sten, you must be sure.”
“I am sure. She is mine.”
Mine.
There was that word again.
The possessiveness in his voice should have scared me.
Instead, something needy inside me practically purred at hearing it.
Then suddenly we were moving.
Fast.
Sten swept me fully into his arms like I weighed nothing, cradling me tightly against his chest as he strode down the corridor.
No.
Not strode.
Something stranger.
The shadows themselves seemed to curl around us.
I blinked hard against the burning haze clouding my mind and swore I saw darkness physically respond to him—as though the shadows beneath the windows and corners of Runevald bent toward Sten willingly.
Like they knew him.
Like they belonged to him.
And somehow?
That felt right.
