Layla’s eyes met his, and for the first time since the announcement, neither of them looked away.
There was no understanding in it. No silent agreement of a truce. Just a simple existence in each other’s eyes. It was nice to be there for a moment.
But it couldn’t last.
He turned toward the window, rain streaking down the glass like ash. “You should rest,” he said. “The ceremony will be in a few hours.”
Her voice came soft, almost a whisper, “You may be able to force me into this, Dominic, but hear me now. I will never forgive you. Never.”
He didn’t turn. “I’m not asking you to.”
Outside, thunder rolled somewhere far beyond Skymist.
Chapter 10 - Layla
She had never been to the cellars beneath the Sawmill. The space was used only for the most important, or most intimate, of the pack’s rituals.
Julian, silent as a ghost, had taken her to a small chamber to prepare. There, she had found a white robe waiting for her.
Nothing else.
Methodically, she dressed, refusing to let herself fall into the pit of dread at what was to come. She didn’t know if she’d be able to come back from it if she did.
An hour later, Julian came for her again.
This time, he led her silently through the old catacombs, sconces throwing their shadows in juddering casts across the ancient stone. She felt as if he were a wraith, her very own grim reaper sent to deliver her to her grave.
It was perhaps a touch melodramatic, but then again, she was wrapped in white silk, being led deeper underground through dark stone tunnels.
And the devil was waiting for her.
She hesitated at the entrance, hiding in a shadow. Julian looked back once, a small crease between his brows.
“I…” she whispered, hands trembling, “I don’t…”
“A piece of advice,” Julian murmured, turning to face her, “if you choose to run, I won’t stop you now. But Dominic will send me after you. And you will not be able to hide from me.”
She swallowed, meeting his gaze. The words should have scared her, but he spoke them so simply, so neutrally. He might as well have been commenting on the weather.
“You underestimate me,” she said in a rare show of boldness.
His eyebrow twitched, the ghost of a smile passing across his strange, serious face. “I have no doubt you are underestimated. But not by me.” His voice dropped low, heavy with meaning.
Her stomach clenched. Could he…could he be talking about her magic? Did he know about it?
No. It was impossible. He would have said something. Told Dominic.
She let her gaze drop. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Julian nodded once and stepped aside. Layla sucked in a breath and moved past him.
Dominic was already waiting within the ring. The candlelight gilded the hard planes of his face, catching in the silver of his eyes, and for a dizzy moment she thought he looked less like a man than a demon given flesh. He didn’t move as the old priest of Lunarion shuffled around the circle, murmuring under his breath.
“You may enter,” the priest said.
Layla stepped forward, the cold stone biting into the bare soles of her feet.
She could feel Dominic. His heat, his presence, the steady hum of power that clung to him like smoke. The air thickened.
