His gaze doesn’t waver. “They didn’t have someone who would bend time and bone to keep them whole.”
Oh, fuck.
I hate the way my pulse reacts to that.
I hate the way his voice curls around the words, like he’s already decided he’ll die before letting me fall.
My throat is too tight. I need to breathe. I need to cut through the gravity of this before it swallows me whole.
So, I smirk. I raise my chin, shake my head, and let my voice slip into something teasing, something flippant.
Something safer.
“Oh, don’t look so serious, Grim.” I wave a hand, like this isn’t a big deal and I’m not seconds away from losing my shit. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got serious royal guard energy?”
Ezra stills. For half a second, nothing happens.
Just a heartbeat of silence, just the slow curl of his fingers against the tabletop.
And then … Ezra stands. Shadows coil around him, rising slowly and sinuously at his feet.
My mouth goes dry as he kneels before me.
Oh, shit.
For a moment, I forget how to breathe.
His hands slide over my hips, dragging me closer, and when he looks up, his eyes are deep and abyssal.
He leans in, his lips brushing the bruises on my throat, a kiss so soft, so deadly devotional, my heart nearly stops.
“No,” he murmurs. “Guards protect what they’re told to. I serve whomever I choose. I serve you, little queen.”
The words prickle against my skin. It’s not a promise, but something older. Something already written in the depth and breadth of the cosmos.
And then he leans in, his voice dark and deliberate.
“And if you want to be a queen for the underborne, too?” His lips curve against my throat. Teasing me, taunting me …daring me. “Then fucking do it.”
I’m so fucked.
Ezra is on his knees, looking up at me like I hunt the stars. Not like I worship them or belong to them, but like I chase them down and make them mine.
My body refuses to cooperate.
My brain? Absolutely short-circuiting.
My spine? Actively trying to escape.
A shadow curls around my wrist, barely touching, waiting for me to say something … to do something.
My pulse thunders. My skin burns. I have no fucking idea how to react to this.
I force a shaky breath past my lips. “Yeah, well, um.” My voice cracks, and I have to clear my throat just to keep going. “That’s very, uh. Very dramatic of you. Like K-drama-level dramatic.”
Ezra tilts his head, his storm-grey eyes lit with excitement. And for the first time, I realize—he likes not knowing things. “K-drama level dramatic?”
I wave a frantic hand toward his still-kneeling form. “This. The kneeling. The vibe. It’s all very, like, park bench in the rain, one tear rolling down the cheek, dramatic …”
