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But he doesn’t need to.
Because right then and there, a storm blows through the gates.
Icy wind swirls through the air, tugging and snapping at my hair, penetrating even my thickly lined coat. Specks of frost and snow fly into the air. For a fleeting moment, they shimmer like tiny diamond shards, before scattering into nothingness.
There’s a blur in front of me; a shadow, all black and crimson and pale, slowing and coalescing into solid form.
The wind dies away, leaving nothing but stillness.
And the shadow isn’t a shadow at all.
It’s a man.
“You!” I gasp, meeting familiar crimson eyes. The very same eyes have haunted my dreams these past few nights. They glow dangerously, just like they did when I first encountered him on that frozen road.
My breath hitches.
There isn’t a single shred of doubt left in my mind that I’m in the presence of magic.
The sun is behind him, casting a gentle shadow across his face, encircling his pale hair with a soft, ethereal halo.
His hair is loose and tousled, as if he’s just gotten out of bed. It’s gloriously long and lush, longer than even mine, reaching down past his shoulders.
It’s the color of pearls. Not quite pure white. Not quite as cold as the snow, or as luminous grey-white as the moon.
There’s a hint of golden in it.
Its softness contrasts with his alabaster visage; his chiseled, inhuman perfection, tempered only by the fullness of his lips, which are imbued with the faintest hint of dusky pink.
His expression…
No human is capable of looking at me with that kind of intensity.
I really don’t know whether he wants to devour me or kill me.
And I can’t move. Just like before, I’m unable to move even the tip of my finger as those terrible lips part to reveal the very same fangs that forcibly pierced my skin.
“Hello, Finley.”
My eyes go wide in disbelief.
He’s addressing me and only me.
He knows myname.
And his voice has the consistency of deep liquid silk, and the ability to momentarily trap me in its resonance, and I’m fighting against him; swimming against the tide of his overwhelming presence.
Gather yourself, Finley Solisar. This is not the time nor place to become smitten. Especially by one that you have no business being smitten with.
Ever.
I take a deep breath and try to summon some semblance of sanity.
I remind myself that we have an audience.
My father’s still on the ground, pinned by Kaithar, head pointed in the opposite direction. He can’t see us; can’t see the demon. There are soldiers all around us.
The big Vikurian wears a wicked grin, as if he’s been waiting for this.
