My gaze greedily darted to the bowl and back to him. It appeared I’d gotten a fabulous salad out of his temper tantrum.
Sage wandered over as Graysen spread his hands on the counter, head hanging low as he sucked in a few deep breaths and got himself back under control. I could only imagine what he was feeling. It was a kink in his family’s plans to learn the Children of the Harbinger knew I was a wyrm and were after me too.
I kept silent as he straightened and pushed away an unruly lock of hair obstructing his sight before he searched my face, looking for clues, any hint at what was held in my mind. Imaintained a neutral expression. He tapped a finger on the granite, finally asking, “What does Silas Boon look like?”
I blinked. I hadn’t expected that question. But I suppose he’d want to know what Silas looked like to hunt him down.
I’d spotted Silas a few times at my family home, stealing onto the estate with the mortal contractors brought in to deal with Evvie’s engagement.
Evvie.
I missed her terribly.
Lise too. My parents as well.
A pang of heartache ricocheted against my chest. I sank down to my knees and hugged Sage, burying my face in his wisps of mist, breathing him in and expelling the misery. Nothingness clung to Sage along with the faint scent of the rancid chicken he loved so much.
Sliding my cheek against Sage’s flank, my gaze skimmed the floor as my mind turned inward, rifling through the last moments I’d been in my family home.
After learning the truth of the Alverac, I ran to my bedroom, determined to do as Graysen had begged me—to run. I’d grab some clothes, get Sage and Evvie, and we’d all escape. Instead, I encounteredme—a changeling.
I’d inhaled magic-infused dust.
Couldn’t breathe and was suffocating.
I thought I was going to die.
Silas had caught me as I fell, held me in his arms, and given me his own breath to break through the magic that had ensnared my lungs. I’d gazed upon a striking face framed with white-blond hair as pale as my own, bright kingfisher-blue eyes staring down at me in reverence. He’d stared at me as if he already knew me, or at least the idea of me. He’d certainly spoken that way, with familiarity, at the cottage too. Which was strange, because I’d never met him before.
“Handsome,” I decided, tilting my head to look up at Graysen.
One lonely eyebrow rose. “Handsome? That’s not much of a fucking description.”
Untangling my arms from Sage, I drifted my fingertips over my face as I considered the best way to describe Silas to see if I could taunt the tamer once more. “He has these amazing cheekbones and these hollows.” I brushed a stroke across the swelling curve of my own cheeks. “Silky blond hair, and these full pouty lips, and he’s…” I shrugged a shoulder, thinking about Silas’s features and wondering how to word it to wind Graysen up further. “Really pretty.”
Graysen squinted at me. “You do realize you just described Barbie Doll Ken.”
Despite the severity of our conversation, I almost burst out laughing. Instead, I chewed my laughter back and schooled my features into a dreamy gaze. “Handsome,” I sighed wistfully as I rose and wandered away.
“You’ve already said that,” I heard behind me, his voice rough-edged.
Graysen didn’t notice the cunning look I shot him before I turned around slowly, making an appreciative humming sound before I said once more, “Handsome.”
He advanced, prowling, and I backed away, retreating. We held each other’s defiant gazes, neither of us blinking. I jolted as my spine hit the bookcase.
Graysen stepped into my personal space, boxing me in with his arms on either side of my body, and gripped the lip of a bookshelf. I looked up at him from beneath the fringed shadows of my lashes, my breath trapped in my throat at his proximity. “I like the sound of handsome, and he wasveryhandsome.”
His voice was a rich, seductive challenge. “I thought you liked stupidly beautiful?”
I rose on tiptoe and crooked my finger. He hesitated, wariness flickering across his features because I’d taunted him not so long ago with Master Sirro. Finally, slowly and cautiously, he bowed his head, and I leaned close, placing a hand on his chest to steady myself, the heat of his powerful body warming my palm. Soft hair brushed along my nose and cheek as I whispered, my voice husky, “Stupidly beautiful has its placeifit behaves itself.” I gently blew a breath against his ear. His fingers tightened on the shelf. Wood cracked, then splintered, and books spilled to the floor in a thunderous clatter as a full body-shiver rippled through his tall physique and he gritted out a low, desperate groan.
When I eased back down, I watched the bronze flecks in his irises burn as hot as the flames of a forge. He fixed his gaze on mine with dark want before dipping it to my mouth, staring at my lips with hungry intent.
I tilted my chin defiantly. “But maybe I’ve moved on. Maybehandsomeis preferable.”
His jaw clenched hard. “He kidnapped you.”
“Pot. Kettle. Black,” I shot back, ducking under one of his arms.
