“You’re the only one who’s ever rattled him. That makes you…inconveniently rare.”
Jakobav swallowed a curse so vicious it scalded the back of his throat.
Why the fuck is he complimenting her so much?
It should have been him standing there and saying those words—to make her laugh like that, to see her face soften, to feel her look at him as though she might actually stay.
His pulse was a war drum in his ears.
He’d never felt anything like it. The sheer loss of control made him want to grab her, haul her into the shadows, and eraseevery other man from her mind until she remembered nothing buthishands,hismouth, andhis fucking name.
He didn’t recognize himself. He didn’t want to. Instead, he stood in a hallway full of shadows and teeth, his restraint fraying with every breath.
And then he moved, not because it was wise, not because he had chosen to, but because he couldn’t stop himself.
Ella barely had time to react before his arm hooked hard around her waist and hauled her clean off her feet, his stride already devouring the space between them and the exit. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Thane’s reaction in the dim light, a wide grin flashing, a small nod that looked far too approving of the spectacle, and then, gods damn him, a fucking wink.
“Jake—” She gasped, but he didn’t answer, didn’t even look at her. He carried her forward with relentless purpose, his silence heavier than any threat, his wrath pressing into every step.
He would deal with Thane later.
Right now she was his obsession. His fury. His fucking ruin.
And he would not be letting her go.
29
THE GARDEN AND THE BREACH
JAKOBAV
Through the halls he carried her, past startled guards who looked away quickly as if they had not seen, past torchlight that bent in the rush of his passage, out into the night where the air bit cold against his skin, her breath hitching uneven in his hold.
And then into the black rose garden.
He wasn’t sure why his fury had carried him here, only that his feet had chosen before his mind could catch up. His blood had always stirred in this place, the dark blooms gleaming like onyx fire beneath the moon. Out here, among the roses, his power had never once faltered. If he was going to break, if he was going to lose every ounce of restraint he had left, this was as good a place as any.
She twisted once against his grip, but he growled, so low it reverberated in his own bones, and she stilled as though her body understood better than her mind that fighting him would be useless.
The night here was warmer than all the rest of the castle grounds, as if the garden kept its own climate. The roses stood like sentinels, thousands of them spilling beneath the moonlightin spirals and arcs, their dark petals drinking in silver light until it fractured into plum and violet and deep wine, gleaming like shards of obsidian wet with dew. The hedges curled in deliberate patterns, the buds tilting as they passed in a slow, collective lean as if the whole garden recognized them. Even the air thickened, laced with spice and velvet, clinging close around them like a second skin.
But Jakobav barely registered any of it. His grip was iron on her wrist, the furnace in his chest burning hotter with every step. That smile she’d given Thane, the way she’d stood too close, and before that, the look she’d given the painted Fae: not fear, not curiosity, but longing.
The thought scraped raw down his spine, jealousy like he’d never known before, a snarl that made him push harder and walk faster, instinct driving him deeper into the heart of the garden until the scent of the roses drowned the night.
She stumbled when he stopped, and he used the momentum to spin her, pressing her back into the hedge. The roses shifted under her, petals crushed with a hiss, their perfume flooding heavy between them.
“You think I didn’t notice?” His voice came low, dangerous, threaded with something feral.
“Notice what?” she shot back, her chin tilting up in defiance.
The sheer gall of her, standing there as if she didn’t know she’d dragged a side of him into the light that he’d never seen in himself, scraped at him until his jaw ached and his pulse thundered. Rage and hunger warred in his veins, a violent swell that left him shaking with the need to claim.
“The way you looked at him,” Jakobav growled. “At that fucking Fae. And Thane. Like they were worth your eyes.”
Her lips curved, not soft but taunting. “Maybe they were.”
Heat spiked through him, dark and violent. “Careful, Ella.”
