She was mesmerizing, brighter than a star in the night sky—and I wasn’t the only one that thought so.
From my vantage point in the far corner of the ballroom, I counted the greedy eyes that touched her skin, the friendly hands that made contact with her body. I even counted anyone who stepped too close.
As if they had any right to lay their hands on a goddess…
She wasmine. And I didn’t like to share.
Ginger twirled without abandon, bumping into folk and laughing as she clutched their shoulders and issued apologies.
My teeth threatened to grind themselves down to dust.
I wanted them dead, each and every one of them. For merely looking at her, for witnessing her lithe form gyratingso gracefully beneath the barely-there dress, they deserved to die.
My fingers curled into fists. Perhaps I would simply gouge their eyeballs out of their skulls so they could never look upon my wife again.
The violence stemmed deep, from the very marrow of my bones, from the very root of my soul. There was something primal about the urge to keep Ginger to myself. Something undeniable.
Every bit of me begged to claim, to own, to… protect? I shook my head. Of course I would protect her. From everything but myself.
It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to not growl aloud when the white-haired wolf returned to the ballroom, headed straight for my mate.
I had left him alive earlier, for one reason only: because I knew his death would have upset Ginger. She was woven into the very core of Moonvale, and any loss would throw a dagger into her heart.
I couldn’t bear to hurt her, even indirectly.
I hoped he would be smart enough to stay away.
Seems I overestimated his intelligence. His death would have rattled the town, but it might have been worth it…
I cracked my knuckles, imagining all the ways I could shred the wolf to pieces.
In due time, Ginger would come around. She would realize that these fools were beneath her, and she was meant to be with me.
Only me.
But I was not a patient man, and the next folk to even look at her wrong would receive a cracked spine in return.
The night crawled by with no end in sight.
It was draining, really—the endless wandering.
The spiraling thoughts.
The infuriating lack of memories.
The pain came and went, triggered by the strangest of things.
A whiff of baking bread would send me to my knees. The sight of a cat turning a corner would snatch the breath from my lungs.
Sometimes, strange glimpses would accompany the blackouts, but they never made sense.
I saw flashes of an elegant castle, full of folk, riches beyond imagination. A different world. Strange clothing, strange magic. And darkness—vast, consuming darkness. A darkness that swallowed me whole and refused to spit me out again.
None of it fit together, and it only served to knot my jumbled mind even further.
This plan to secure my wife had failed.
An honorary title? Fucking ridiculous, and a massive waste of my time.
