He caught the man by the throat mid-swing, lifting him effortlessly from the ground, fingers tightening. There was a sound like stone grinding against stone, and then the body went slack, skin hardening again instantly, eyes glazing over as life was finally ripped away.
He let the statue fall, and it shattered on impact.
The silence that followed was heavy. Broken only by the distant settling of stone and the soft rustle of leaves that dared to move again.
Only then did Theron turn toward me.
The fury was still there, rolling off him in waves so intense it made my skin prickle. Or at least, I think it did. The sensationthroughout my body was unlike anything I had ever felt, something I had to put down to the plant spores I had breathed in.
His gaze met mine, and something shifted within him. The copper dimmed slightly before seeping back to green, and the stone beneath his skin receded, leaving warm flesh behind.
He knelt in front of me, large enough that he blocked out what remained of the scene behind him, and I realized dimly that this was intentional.
So, I wouldn’t have to see it.
“Alexandra,”he said quietly.
I flinched back, now able to move slightly, realizing that the poison from the flowers hadn’t killed me but also hadn’t rendered me unconscious either.Thank God for small mercies.
However, the reaction didn’t go by unnoticed as my body recoiled before my mind could catch up. Fear of him slammed into me with fresh force now that one danger had passed. His eyes flickered with something unreadable.
“You’re afraid of me,” he murmured, not accusing, not surprised, just a simple statement. I swallowed hard. My throat was tight, and I was unable to lie even if I wanted to.
“You…” My voice cracked, useless and small. “You turned them to stone.”
“Yes,” he said.
The honesty in that one word made my breath hitch.
He reached for me, slowly giving me time to pull away if I wanted to, and when his hand closed around my wrist, it was warm and grounding. I could feel his pulse beneath my fingers. A steady and potent reminder that, despite what I had just witnessed, he was still flesh and blood.
“I will not hurt you.” His voice was gravelly and low.“Not now. Not ever.”
The words wrapped around me, gentle despite the power behind them, and something in my chest loosened just enough for me to breathe again.
“Do you understand?”
I nodded, unable to verbalize it.
“You should not have followed the voice,” he added, his reprimand quieter still. “But that mistake is no longer yours to carry.”
I would have liked to have asked what he meant by that, but the second his arms scooped under me, I gasped.
He lifted me with ease, one arm sliding beneath my knees, the other braced securely around my back. I weighed nothing to him, carried as effortlessly as if I were part of the land he commanded. My head fell against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart a strange comfort against the lingering terror.
“Sleep,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You’re safe now.”
The forest blurred as he began to walk, the world tilting gently with each step, and despite myself, despite the fear and the questions and the terrible knowledge of what he was capable of, exhaustion claimed me at last.
The last thing I felt was the warmth of his hold. The last thing on my mind, a comfort I could now trust because it was true…
It was better the devil you knew.
The first thing I became aware of was movement. Not the sharp, jarring kind that suddenly snaps someone awake, but something steady and rhythmic, like being rocked. Warmth followed, a solid, encompassing heat pressed around me on all sides. And for one blissfully ignorant moment, I thought I was back in my bed at the hotel. Half-tangled in blankets, half-dreaming, safe enough to let my mind drift without clawing its way back into my body.
Then my cheek moved against something firm, not a pillow, something that rose and fell beneath my face. A deep vibration thrummed through it that I realized was a heartbeat. One that was slow and calm, like the person carrying it had decided panic was for other people.
“Oh,” I murmured.
