White-hot fury exploded through me instantly.
An image of my Luna trapped in a mausoleum with no way out flashed in my mind.
“They trapped you?”
She nodded.
“There was a nest of moths inside.” Her voice shook now. “Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. I must have startled them.”
Fuck.
I moved before thinking.
One hand landed gently above her knee.
Warm.
Soft.
Mine.
Heat surged violently through my body at the contact.
Not lust.
Not entirely.
Something deeper.
Protective.
Possessive.
Primal.
“They swarmed me,” she whispered. “I couldn’t breathe. Their wings kept touching my skin and face and hair…” Her voice cracked. “I screamed until my throat hurt. But I had to stop, I had to spit them out when they flew inside my mouth.”
My vision flashed white.
Not red.
White.
Pure rage.
“How long?” I asked softly.
“What?”
“How long did they leave you there?”
Her eyes shimmered.
“They-they didn’t come back.” Barely audible now. “I was in there all night. A search party found me the next afternoon. And when they got me out—I was so frightened I didn’t speak for a week.”
One tear slid silently down her cheek.
And something inside me snapped.
