I could say I want her mouth under mine.Her trust.Her anger.Her hands on me without shaking.Her body soft and willing and safe beneath mine, months from now, years from now, whenever she chooses.I could say I want to curl around her while she sleeps and dare the nightmares to come closer.I could say I want my mark on her and her choice on me.
Instead, I step back.“Not yet,” I say.
Her brows draw together.“Not yet?”
“You deserve answers before wants.”
Confusion flashes across her face.Then frustration.That’s good.Frustration is safer than heat, for now.
“What answers?”
Before I can speak, the front door opens.A human man steps inside.No.Not human.He smells wrong.Not vampire.Not shifter.Not witch.
Empty.
Everyone in the room stills.The man wears a courier uniform and a blank expression.His eyes are pale, pupils too wide.Glamoured or compelled.
Ari appears at the top of the stairs.“That’s not one of ours.”
I move in front of Briana.This time, she doesn’t argue.
The courier lifts one hand.In it is a small black box.
“For Briana,” he says in a dead voice.
My beast lunges, and I hold him back by a thread.
Aldron appears from the hall, fangs down, face inhumanly calm.“Set it on the floor.”
The courier obeys.
“What is it?”Briana asks from behind me.
No one answers.The courier smiles, and blood pours from his nose.Then his eyes roll back, and he collapses.
Ari swears, and Malichai catches her before she can rush forward.“No.”
Aldron crouches near the body but doesn’t touch it.“He’s dead.”
Briana’s fingers brush the back of my shirt.Not grabbing.Just there.My entire body locks around that single point of contact.
“Knox,” she whispers.“The box.”
I look down.The lid has opened by itself.Inside, resting on black velvet, is a silver collar.Small and delicate.Made for a woman’s throat.For Briana’s throat.
The beast in me goes silent.Dead silent.Right before the first horn breaks through my skin.
