Hadrien stretched out his body, rolling his massive shoulders and shaking out his muscles.
Sweet goddess, he was magnificent. Terrifying yet magnificent.
For a heartbeat, he stood still on his perch. Then he spread his wings, so wide that they blotted out my view of the moon, and he propelled himself into the night.
My breath caught in my throat.
He soared with an elegance that enchanted me. How could something so large appear so graceful?
Instinct screamed at me to run inside and hide from this monster. Yet another part of me stayed still, entranced by his graceful flight.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to summon my courage and do what I came to do. Raising my chin, I called out, “Hadrien!”
He paused in the air as if listening. He turned and swooped down toward me with those massive wings and terrifying silver eyes. My shoulders rose with the urge to cower, but I hardened my resolve not to yield to the fear.
His massive, clawed feet touched the ground about ten feet away, landing with such force that it sent tremors through the soil. Vibrations traveled up through my boots and into my body—strange, unsettling sensations. He straightened, folding his leathery wings in with a snap of warm air that breezed over my skin, and fixed those intense silvery-gray eyes on me. “You’re very brave or very foolish to be calling me in the dark, Little One.”
I swallowed hard as I stared at him, questioning whether this was a mistake. “I need to talk to you.”
“Do you?” He snorted. He stepped closer, his massive body towering over me.
Despite his formidable stature, something about how the moonlight caught the planes of his face captivated me. The gray of his skin shimmered under its glow. The scars showed pale against the darker gray, fine white lines that crisscrossed his arms and chest. What he must have endured to earn them. An unexpected pang of sympathy rose for this cruel creature.
My gaze traveled slowly up his muscular torso, to the sharp lines of his chiseled face and jaw. Features that without the fury distorting them were more striking than I wanted to admit. My tongue felt dry and I swallowed. Slowly, I dragged my gaze up to meet his eyes. They shone with such a cold gleam they appeared luminous, silver rather than gray, lit from somewhere deep.
“Because…” I bit the words out past my fear. “I need your help. With the wards. I need to understand how they work in order to strengthen them.”
He stared at me, his expression unreadable until it pooled into a bitter smile. “And yet, you said you could work with them.”
I blew out a frustrated breath. He wasn’t going to make this easy. “Well, I tried.”
“And failed.”
His mocking tone irked me. “Don’t be so stubborn,” I snapped, wagging a finger at his massive torso. “I’m trying to help you.”
His eyes flashed. “Careful, Little One. You’re in no position to?—”
“To what? Tell you that you’re being foolish?” Heat flooded through me, burning away the fear. “That your bitterness and anger won’t help you, when I’m trying to?—”
“There is no helping me,” he roared, and his warm breath brushed over my face. “No reinforcing the wards. Don’t you think I’ve tried?” His mouth curled into a snarl.
“Then why?” I threw my hands up as I resumed pacing, exasperation bleeding through my pores. “Why agree to give me twenty-one days if you’re so certain nothing can be done? Is this just some game to you? To amuse yourself while my family and I fight for survival?”
He went as still as if he’d shifted back to statue form. I studied him as he stood there—the gigantic, muscular body, the chiseled core, the broad shoulders. The only movement was a twitch of his lips. Was it surprise?
“Nothing about this situation is amusing.” His voice lowered with gravity. Then he straightened and sneered. “Like you said, I must be foolish.”
“Indeed.” I planted my hands on my hips and stared at him, my breath coming harder now. “No.” I shook my head. “I don’t believe it.”
He cocked his head. “Believe what?”
“That you truly think this is hopeless.” I took a step closer to him, despite every instinct screaming at me to retreat. “Deep down, you must believe something can be done.”
“Hope is a foolish thing, Little One.”
“Hope is theonlything,” I countered. “Otherwise, why bother?”
He stared at me with a curious glint in hard eyes, and for a moment, just a flash, heat rose over my body. Yes, he was terrifying. Absolutely monstrous. But a part of me—just a sliver—responded to him in a way I didn’t quite understand.
