Fear coiled tight in her belly.
Apollo had tried to kill her.
But this man, her husband with his forge-built body, hecouldkill her.
Eyes cold steel, he straightened and took one prowling step toward her.“Do it again.”
“D-do what?”
“Do it again, Diana.I want to make sure I saw what I saw.”Another step like danger itself, slicing away at the distance between them.
No escape from this.She was too high off the ground to climb out the window.And his massive body blocked the door.Two options: deny or comply.God help her.She closed her eyes and made a choice.
And the footsteps stopped.His breathing stopped.The ring’s temperature cooled.
She dared to open her eyes, found a storm of shock in Temple’s gaze, a hint of curiosity like the peek of sun behind the clouds that comes after.
“Who is this?”he asked, circling her, his gaze raking across every inch of her.
“Me.”Good.Her voice didn’t shake.“No, not me.It is how my grandfather wanted the world to see me.”Without thought, she’d restored the last glamour she’d brought to life, the face she’d worn before her grandfather’s death.“I wore this face until his death.”
Still he circled.“Most glamours… improve a person’s appearance.”
She snuffed the glamour, pushing away the light that had helped her cast it.The world slipped into shadows.She’d pushed too much light away.Good.Easier to hide.
And beyond the darkness, Temple’s lips parted in a surprised inhalation.He reached for her but didn’t touch her, his fingers slipping into her shadows.
“Why?”he asked.
“He never said.I assume it was because he didn’t want me tempted to leave him.I thought he loved me, but”—she swallowed hard, inhaled deeply, clung to the shadows that gave her power because she needed every bit of it—“he only wanted to control me, to keep me as his nurse and maid.There were always men about the house—his friends and allies from parliament.Apollo’s cronies.I used to wish one of them would see me, give me a new life.But that would have inconvenienced grandfather.”
“That night we met… you appeared one way at first, then another later.I’d assumed it was the potion changing my perception of you, or a male relative’s glamour flickering in and out, but… damn.Have you always been this way?Been able to?—”
“No.”She was tired, so tired, every muscle clenched, ready to flee.She knew of only one exit, but there were many tools that could help her—a fire poker, a vase.If she broke the looking glass, she’d have a knife.But would any of those weapons help her fight a man like this?
Built like a blacksmith.
Could bend iron to his will without a hammer or fire.
Whose eyes were soft with questions yet unasked.
Damn her tears.She swiped them away.Damn them.
“It was supposed to go to Apollo!”she cried, her words slashing out of the shadows, decimating them.
He rocked back a step.
She was screaming.She didn’t care.“But for some cursed reason it slipped into my body”—she slammed a fist against her chest—“right before grandfather died.I don’t want it!It’s done nothing but ruin me.It almost killed me!You’ll kill me!”Her inhale was jagged.She searched wildly about the room, trying to decide.
Vase, poker, mirror?
He held his hands out, gentle, seeking.“Shh.Diana?—”
She batted them away.“No!If you must kill me, I will fight.I will fight to the very end because even if this talent is not rightfully mine, this life is!”She lunged for the fireplace, the poker.
“Diana.”Now he held his hands up like shields.
Were his hands like iron?Would they deflect her weapon with ease?Would she rip through skin and muscle like a knife through butter?
