His eyes flared open, the silver slits of his dragon staring back at me.
In my next breath, he grabbed my waist and flipped me over so my back was on the ground and he was hunched over me.
He glared down, heaving breaths racking his chest. His ear-length hair hung wild and unruly past his forehead as he bared his fangs at me. Hints of fire and steel raged in his eyes. It was almost as if they were glowing, barely containing the power within.
Gone was the charming, silver-tongued man, and even the cold and angry captor.
This was thedragon.
I refused to be scared, not when I knew he was in pain. I lifted my chin and held his gaze. A devastating growl rumbled through the space between us, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.
“Nox, it’s me. It’s Devora. You were having a nightmare.” When I spoke, he grabbed my wrists to keep me from moving, and I arched my back. “I—I promise, I’m not going to hurt you,” I gasped.
He snarled again. His eyes flicked down to my neck, then to the cloak wrapped around my shoulders. His nostrils flared, but his breaths faltered.
To my surprise, he lowered his head to the fabric, breathing it in as his nose traveled down the length of it. The action was so predatory, so Shifter-like, that it made my muscles clench, nervous to flinch and risk his sudden movement.
“Devora?” he growled.
I slowly nodded. His breaths evened, but he didn’t move, his nose still tracing a path where the cloak met my neck. Instead of fear, heat burned through my core. My eyes fluttered shut as I exhaled.
He was so close. So warm. The top of his head brushed my cheek, and the stubble at his chin was rough even through the cloak. I swallowed hard when he breathed in again.
The tension snapped.
Before I could blink, Nox threw himself off me with a grunt, almost bringing down the tent as he crashed into it.
“You shouldn’t be wearing that,” he said, voice so low and gravelly, I hardly recognized it.
I scrambled back and tried to catch my breath. “What are you?—”
“Mycloak. You can’t wear that,” he seethed.
My eyebrows flew up. “You’rethe one who gave it to me. What’s wrong?”
“It smells like me,” he forced out. “He—he can’t know. Scarven. He’ll smell it.”
I got to my feet and moved closer. “It’s okay, Scarven’s not here. You had a nightmare. You need to calm?—”
“Don’t!” he roared, and I froze. “He’s going to know. I was an idiot. You can’t wear that anymore, Devora.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand. How would he?—”
Nox was before me in a flash, one hand wrapping loosely around my throat while the other tore the cloak from my shoulders. “You smell likemine, Devora. And he always wants what’s mine.”
I met his stare, startled by the fear in his eyes. Why was Nox so scared about this? With all the magic at our disposal, I was sure there was a way to mask my scent—a potion or spell, perhaps. No, something else was going on. Something deeper.
“Why does he care so much about you?” I whispered.
His lips lifted into a snarl. I didn’t think he was going to answer me, but a moment later, he released me and backed away. Unspoken anguish lined his features.
“Because he’s my brother.”
Silence filled the tent. I blinked several times to wipe awaymy shock. “He’s—he’swhat?”
How was that possible? How had I not known? What kind of person kidnaps andtortureshis own brother?
“Half-brother,” Nox amended, his voice returning to normal. He ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. “We share the same father. He’s seven years older than me. We weren’t raised together. I didn’t even know who he was until he challenged our father for the governor’s position.”
