More powerful than she knew.
That revelation struck me like a blade. All those times I’d watched her, studied her from the dark, and I had never seen it. Never known what power was buried inside her.
What echoes had she heard, I wondered? What truth had burst through her sight when she’d come undone?
Had it frightened her?
Perhaps not. She had only clung to me, her trembling body pleading wordlessly for more.
And I would have given it. Fuck, there was nothing in this world I had wanted more than to answer her pleas.
The wolf had broken free. The storm had not stayed within.
Light radiated from me, revealing the ruin I had wrought. Blood traced down her shoulder and arm, and beneath her skin, a mark of roots and branches writhed as if alive. Her eyes were wide with horror. Her lips trembled, struggling to form a sound.
Only one sound filled my mind—her scream when the lightning had struck. Pure, raw agony.
I never wanted to hear that scream again.
I fled the lavatorium, moving through the gallery as though chased by my own shadow, until I burst into the gardens. I had to release the storm, at least enough to keep from harming her further. Light still clung to me, every breath seething, the wolf clawing at the thin cage of my restraint.
At last I reached the secluded alcove at the necropolis’ end, where Henrich’s tomb lay. A sarcophagus of marble and quartz, its surface pale beneath the moonlight, a single silver-engraved plaque marking his name. Opposite it stood his statue, watching in silent judgment.
Deep breaths. Ground yourself. Clench your fists. Draw blood if you must.His voice echoed through memory, steady and cruelly calm.
I obeyed that phantom counsel, standing before his tomb, moonlight washing the alcove in a silver calm that could never reach my bones.
Cage the wolf. Keep the storm within.
The light dimmed, but the wolf still growled.
Even if my cock was still rock hard, threatening the fabric of mybreeches, for a moment, there was quiet. For a moment, there was peace.
Until footsteps broke it.
I prayed it was Evie. I prayed it wasn’t.
“Kael…”
That voice…
Selena.
I sighed, disappointment tightening my chest. “What do you want?”
“You fled the ballroom so quickly, I thought something was wrong. When you didn’t return, I came to find you.”
Something was wrong. Terribly so.
“You seem tense, Kael…” she murmured, drawing nearer. Her hands glided over my shoulders, kneading lightly before pressing her body against my back.
The scent of mousseux drifted between us. She was drunk.
For a woman built on poise and hard ice, she was crumbling beautifully tonight.
I turned to face her. Her eyelids drooped, her cheeks were flushed, her breath thick with sparkling wine.
“What do you want, Selena?” I asked again, quieter this time.
