But gods help me, I do.
I force myself to wait. To give her space. Not to chase after her like some desperate fool. I pick up the report again, pretending to read about witch movements and territorial violations. The words may as well be written in a foreign language for all the sense they make.
Five minutes. I’ll give her five minutes.
Each second feels like an eternity. I’m aware of every tick of the clock on the mantle, every breath I take, every too-fast beat of my heart. Artisem has gone back to the proposals, but I can feel his occasional glances in my direction.
Finally, I stand. “I’ll go apologize.”
Artisem makes a sound somewhere between approval and exasperation. I don’t wait to find out which.
I step into the corridor, searching for her dark hair, her familiar silhouette—and I freeze.
She is far down the hall, her back to me. She’s with a man. I recognize him immediately, even from this distance: Leon, one of Lucian’s inner circle. He’s leaning against the stone wall, and I can see he’s smiling at her. Daciana is clearly talking, her hands moving as she speaks, animated in a way she rarely is around me.
Something cold and lethal unfurls in my chest.
My wolf surges forward, slamming against the cage of my control. The rage isn’t hot—it’s icy, spreading through my veins like winter frost. Deadly. Absolute. The kind of cold that kills silently, efficiently.
I start walking toward them, my footsteps silent on the stone floor. As I get closer, I hear her laugh—a sound I realize with sudden, brutal clarity that I want directed at me. Leon’s eyes track over her face with unmistakable interest, lingering too long.
He reaches forward and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.
I’m beside them in an instant, my hand locked around Leon’s wrist before his gesture is complete. They both startle—Daciana whirling around, her eyes going wide, and Leon freezing mid-movement.
I lower his hand slowly, deliberately, keeping my grip just shy of painful, restraining myself from breaking his wrist. “What are you doing?”
My voice comes out low, controlled, but I can hear the edge beneath it. So can Leon, if the way he pales is any indication.
“Alpha Kieran. I was just—”
“Just?” I repeat, not releasing him. My wolf is a snarling presence in my mind, demanding I make it absolutely clear that she’s…
That she’s what? Mine? She’s not. I made sure of that.
“Alpha Kieran…” Daciana starts, her voice carrying a note I can’t quite interpret. Warning? Confusion?
I don’t look at her. Can’t. Because if I do, I might see her defending him, choosing him, and my wolf is already straining against my control so hard that my bones ache with the effort of holding him back.
“He was just being friendly,” Daciana continues, and now there’s definitely an edge to her tone. “Is that a crime?”
Friendly. The word scrapes against the rawness inside me. I finally let go of Leon’s wrist and take a measured step back, though everything in me screams to do the opposite. To move closer. To position myself between her and this man who has no right to touch her hair, to make her smile like that, to look at her like she’s something he could have.
“My apologies,” I say, the words tasting like ash and lies. “I didn’t realize you two were…acquainted.”
Leon straightens his jacket, eyeing me with the wariness of a man who has just glimpsed a predator. Smart. “I should go. Duty calls.”
He nods to Daciana in a way that is too familiar, too warm, and I watch him retreat with a savage satisfaction that does nothing to ease the tension coiling tighter and tighter in my chest.
When he’s gone, Daciana turns to me, and I finally meet her eyes. There’s color high on her cheeks, but whether from embarrassment or anger, I cannot tell. Both, maybe.
“What was that?” she demands.
What was it? Jealousy. Possession. The echo of a bond I tried to sever but can’t seem to kill completely, no matter how much magic I throw at it.
“Nothing,” I lie.
I watch her face shift from anger to a sharper, more wounded expression.
