For a long moment, he didn’t speak.
Then his hand moved, fast and deliberate, catching her wrist.
The grip was not violent, but it was firm enough to make her heart leap. She looked up sharply.
His eyes were different. The usual cool blue had gone darker, the color of storm clouds pulled tight across the horizon. The strength in his fingers felt steady now, no tremor or weakness, but his skin was fever-hot.
Her stomach wrenched. He had been asleep, completely unconscious.
Hadn’t he?
She swallowed, forcing a shaky smile onto her face, “How are you feeling?”
Dominic’s eyes didn’t move from her face.
“I’m so glad you’re awake,” she said, pulling her hand back from his, trying to make the move look natural as she pointlessly smoothed the bedding around him, heart pounding like a drum. “Julian’s going to talk with the priest, he says youshouldn’t have collapsed like that. But you’re awake now, and there doesn’t seem to be any damage, so I’m sure-”
“Layla,” he said, his voice low and warning, “what were you doing just before I woke up?”
She froze, blood turning to ice. A million different thoughts collided in her head, dizzying in their speed. Should she deny it? Confess? Distract? Run?
His gaze had her pinned in place. There was no softness in his eyes, no space for mercy.
“I was looking after you,” she said, amazed at the steadiness in her voice. Of course, she had been lying for such a long time. She was a seasoned professional. “Making sure you were comfortable.”
His jaw worked, but his piercing eyes finally flitted left of her, fixing on the view of the sea out the window. “I thought that…”
“You’re probably confused,” she said with a half-laugh, too high to truly be relaxed, “why don’t I go and find Julian? I’m sure the priest will want to make sure you’re okay.”
He didn’t move as she bustled around him, fussing with the curtains, the bedcovers, anything to keep her hands from shaking. In her mind’s eye, she could see herself, a nervous wreck with guilt written into every movement.
She forced herself to slow. To breathe deeply. To keep her face serene.
He didn’t know. Not for certain.
She might still get away with it.
As she slipped out the door, she risked one final look at his face. It was sombre, his brow furrowed, the muscles of his jaw tight.
He did not look back at her.
Chapter 21 - Dominic
Dominic stood by the window of his study, staring out across the gray sweep of Skymist. The tide was high, the wind dragging mist over the water, blurring the horizon into a seamless haze of silver and shadow. He should have found the sight calming. He didn’t.
His reflection in the glass looked like a stranger, the same sharp lines, the same pale eyes, but colder now, harder. He still felt the echo of it beneath his ribs, the flash of pain, the blackout, the surge of magic that had dragged him back from the edge. All day he’d stood. Thinking. Remembering.
Growing angry.
He’d awakened with her scent still on his skin, the faint hum of power that didn’t belong to any shifter still clinging to his veins.
He didn’t want to believe it. But there were no other explanations.
The door opened quietly behind him.
He didn’t turn.
The soft sound of footsteps crossed the threshold, careful, hesitant. He didn’t have to look to know it was her. He could feel her presence before she spoke, the pulse of the bond stirring at the edge of his consciousness.
