Chapter 1
Vivian’s Point of View
Rule one:No means no. NO MEANS NO.
Ilike to think I’m not a violent person, but my feminine urge to engage in ritualistic killings has never been stronger.
Leon is standing at the end of my bed, gazing down at me. His expression is a mixture of pride and adoration.
I frown, blinking once.
Twice.
And that’s when it all hits me – the memory of Need holding my friends hostage on the beach, and the way Leon wrenched my neck to the side.
I am ninety-nine percent sure he murdered me.
The fuckingaudacity.
It doesn’t matter that I was already planning on dying toprobablycome back as an immortal. Whatmatters is that once again, this man decided my consent meant nothing.
Is this what the self-help books meant when they mentioned setting boundaries?
I narrow my eyes at him as I slowly climb off the bed, not letting him leave my sight. There is no way he gets to have me at any more of a disadvantage, at least not more than he already has. No light comes from the window in my periphery, and the room is cast in a dark, ambient glow from the small orbs floating along polished marble walls. Shadows dance across Leon’s face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones. Unfortunately, the darkness does nothing to conceal the look of absolute focus he has on me. The effect is equal parts creepy and menacing.
Dread curls in my stomach as I realize where I am.
I’m back in the Council’s castle.
With Leon.
If this is karma, I’m going to need the universe to be a little less dramatic.
Leon takes a step toward me.
Absolutely not. No invading personal bubbles.
Immediately, I take a measured step back, internally cringing at the way my long silk gown tangles around my feet.
I don’t own any gowns.
Chills crawl down my spine at the realization that once again, people have taken the liberty to touch me while I was asleep. The violation claws at my throat, and my panic only grows.
Don’t think about it, Vivian. Not now. You can’t fall apart in front of this man.
My spiraling is cut short, though, when Leon stops his advance. His brow is raised in surprise, and he slowly lifts his hands as if to show he means no harm. Which is rich, coming from the man who very recently murdered me.
What’s the fantasy world equivalent of 911? I would like a nuclear-level restraining order.
“I’m happy to see you awake and well. I’ve missed you so much.” He sounds like he’s trying to coax an injured animal.
His words do nothing to soothe me. This is the man who exploited a corrupted magical bond between us. He used it to touch my body and tried to force me into freeing his terrifying power. When I refused to give in, he left bruises on my skin.
Leon is volatile. And yet here he is, holding his arms open, like he’s waiting for me to clue in and run into his embrace.
Apparently, delusion is rather tricky for some people to overcome. At this point, I don’t even think therapy will do much for Leon’s brand of crazy.
I stay where I am, internally bracing myself for the anger I’m sure will follow once he realizes that:
