Not when she was in another man's arms. Wearing his twilight. His starlight. His colors, while she gave her smiles to everyone else.
He cut through the crowd, and courtiers scrambled out of his path. His shadows spread before him like a wave, and the temperature dropped further with each step.
"Try not to kill my warrior!" Seraphina called after him, her tone more amused than concerned. "He's one of my favorites, and they're difficult to replace!"
The warrior noticed his approach first, his instincts recognizing a threat. To his credit, he didn't immediately release Brynn. Instead, he straightened to his full impressive height, easily six and a half feet of solid muscle, and positioned himself slightly in front of her.
Shielding her. From Dante.
As if Dante were the danger. As if Dante were the one who couldn't be trusted.
Except he was. He'd proved that when he kept things from her.
He ignored that thought.
"Evening, Lord Reaper," the warrior said slowly, his voice flat, though his posture said otherwise.
Dante's response was a low snarl that barely resembled words. His shadows reached for Brynn without his permission, curling around her ankles possessively, wrapping around the hem of her dress like they were trying to claim her back.
Brynn stepped out of the warrior's embrace, moving around him to face Dante directly. Her chin lifted, and her eyes flashed with challenge and anger.
Hells, she was magnificent. Even furious. Even looking at him like she wanted to tear him apart.
Especially then.
"Something wrong?" she asked, her voice carrying clearly in the sudden quiet that had fallen over the gathering.
Everything. Everything was wrong.
"We need to talk," he managed, his voice rough. The effort of not throwing her over his shoulder and dragging her away from every male who dared look at her was making his hands shake. "Now."
"I'm busy." She raised an eyebrow, her tone as frigid as the ice spreading from his feet. "Dancing. At a diplomatic gathering. Or did you not notice?"
The casual dismissal, delivered for all to hear, stung.
"Besides," she continued, her voice dropping to something more dangerous, "don't you think you've made enough decisions about what I need without asking me first? Enough choices about my life without my input?"
Her words found their target. Around them, the entire gathering had gone silent. The other Death Lords were watching now. Caelum with concern that didn't quite reach his eyes. Vex with open interest. Seraphina with amusement. Lady Thessa had materialized from somewhere, her form bright with curiosity.
"We're leaving," Dante said, his voice low and unyielding. Final. "Now."
"I'm in the middle of a dance," she replied, each word enunciated. Her politeness was laced with steel.
"The dance is over."
"But I'm enjoying myself." Her chin lifted slightly higher in challenge. "I'm having a wonderful time, actually. Meeting new people. Dancing. Being treated with honesty and respect for once."
"Enjoying yourself?" The words came out as a growl that made several nearby nobles take another step back. "You're dancing with every man here while treating me like I'm?—"
He caught himself before he could finish that sentence.
But the damage was done—the vulnerability exposed.
Her eyes went wide, then narrow with understanding. With satisfaction.
"Like you're what, exactly?" Her voice was quiet. "Like you're someone who lies to me? Someone who makes decisions about my life behind my back? Someone who keeps me ignorant about my own identity while everyone else knows?"
She took a step closer, and he could see the anger and hurt burning in her eyes.
