Then—
I saw his hand at the small of her back. His mouth curved in that stupid grin, murmuring whatever line or jest had her laughing—laughing in a way I hadn’t heard in weeks. I couldn’t make myself look away—not with my blood running too fast. The reaction hit before thought. Feral. Immediate. Ugly. I couldn’t let that go. Couldn’t walk away.
I shoved through the crowd before I could stop myself. The music pounded, boots stomping, voices rising, but the hall seemed to part for me anyway, faces blurring past. Everything became scent and pulse—mead, sweat, smoke, and the bright, maddening thread of her. I could hear her heartbeat through the drums.
Jealousy wasn’t even the worst of it. It was the certainty that if I didn’t move now, I would lose her.
All I could see was her in his arms and him looking down at her like she was something he’d already claimed.
Not while I still drew breath.
I reached them just as his hand brushed her cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Mind if I cut in?”
Nerina froze. Veyrion’s wolfish grin didn’t falter. He simply looked at me, his hand lingering before he let it fall.
Her eyes found mine. The look on her face—Like she’d been caught. It drove the knife deeper. She knew what it looked like. Veyrion’s hand at her back. Her laughter spilled into his chest. The two of them dressed in red and white like some cruel joke.
“Of course,” he said smoothly, though reluctance edged his tone.
He caught her hand one last time—deliberately—and placed it into mine with mock ceremony. “To be continued.”
He winked at her before melting back into the crowd.
I pulled her against me, grip tightening at her waist. My jaw ached with the effort not to snarl. I loosened a fraction on instinct—then tightened again.
I bent my head toward her ear, words rough, burning. “Enjoying yourself?”
Her silence stoked something raw in me.
“Say something, Nerina. Anything. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t like the way he looks at you.”
Her eyes flared. Her jaw set. “And if I do? If I did like it—what then, Alaric?” Her voice was steel wrapped in fire. “Would you chain me back to your ship? Lock me away from every smile that isn’t yours?”
Defiance shot straight through my veins. I spun her, hard enough that her skirt flared wide. When I drew her back, I didn’t let her stumble—I yanked her into me, chest to chest. The way she stiffened sent a jolt of shame through my ribs. I’d crossed a line. I knew it. I didn’t stop. Couldn't stop.
Control was there—present—but strained, like a rope starting to fray. “I’d do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” The words sounded righteous. My grip said something else.
“Safe?” She let out a bitter laugh. “That’s what you call it? Because it felt a lot more like being kept in the dark.”
Her words struck true—deeper than she knew. My hand pressed firmer at the small of her back. Thinking I could keep her tethered if I held hard enough. “I am trying to protect you.”
This was how it started. This was how men built cages—by calling them protection.
Her gaze snapped to mine, blazing. “You don’t get to decide what I need protecting from.”
The drums thundered. The hall spun. But all I could see was her—glaring up at me like she’d rather set me aflame than stay in my arms. I hauled her into another turn, forcing her into step, my voice a growl at her ear. “And what about him, Nerina? Do you really think he’ll protect you? That wolf will devour you the moment you stop burning bright enough to keep his interest.”
Her breath hitched—not with fear. With fury. “Better a wolf who bares his nature,” she hissed, “than one who pretends he’s harmless.”
My grip faltered for a heartbeat—just long enough for her to see she’d struck true. My hands trembled at my sides. I hid it by pulling her back into step, rougher this time, fingers digging into her hip.
Her lips parted, but the fury in her eyes didn’t fade. If anything, it blazed brighter. Then her crescent mark flared—silver-white and furious—light spilling across her brow like a wound torn open. The fire leapt in answer. The nearest dancers recoiled. Gods, it terrified me—because I knew if I pushed any harder, I’d lose her. But if I let go, I already had.
“If it weren’t for Veyrion,” she hissed, “I never would’ve known. About the sanctuary. About the blood on your hands. You would have kept it from me forever.”
I spun her again, more force than finesse, dragging her back into step. My jaw ached from how tightly I clenched it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
