He knew that vile guard didn’t die in that arena. And Thorn? He was no doubt in the empire’s gilded estate meant for royalty. Protected. Planning his next moves.
Rell’s hands clenched in his lap, knuckles popping.
He could find them. Hewantedto. Right now, he could be sneaking into that estate, he knew the layout, he’d done it before. He could creep past Thorn’s defenses and skin the bastard inch by inch.
He could go.
But if he left… and she woke up alone?
Rell ran a hand down his face, dragging his fingers over the stubble on his jaw. It was like trying to put out a fire with a whisper.
He glanced at her again. The curve of her shoulder under the blanket. The ragged edge of her cloak clutched in one hand. He shut his eyes. But the same image wouldn’t leave him. Not the blood. Not the fire. Not even Thorn.
It washim.The ginger guard with the eyepatch. The way he leaned in like she was a prize he was reclaiming. Hands on her, caressing her cheek. And her. The way her entire body locked up, frozen between fight and flight and just… breaking.
Thorn shocking her and slapping her made his blood boil but Rell had nearly jumped into the arena when he saw that guard touch her. He wanted to rip his hands off and shove his own thumb into his last good eye. Only the plan—herplan—had kept him from doing something reckless. And even now, he didn’t know if that was the right call.
He looked down at her again. “I should’ve been faster,” he muttered under his breath. “Should’ve stopped them.”
His voice cracked just enough to shame him. Rell leaned his head back against the wall, letting it thud gently.
He wasn’t used to this kind of waiting.
He was a blade. A storm. Something to beused. Not this—this anchor, this hand held out in the dark, hoping she’d take it.
And yet here he was.
Waiting.
Forher.
A sharp breeze swept across his skin.
He jolted awake with a shiver.
The room wascold—colder than it had been when he drifted off. He blinked, heart thudding in that disoriented post-sleep panic. The balcony door was wide open, the sheer curtain rippling in the breeze.
He hadn’t left it open.
Rell sat up, silent. Instinct taking over.
His hand reached beneath the pillow and closed around the worn leather hilt of his dagger. He rose from the mattress slowly, eyes scanning every corner of the room.
That’s when he saw them.
Golden eyes. Four pairs.
Glinting from the dark corners of the room like stars in the night sky.
He barely had time to adjust before he heard it—a crack, like splintering wood and grinding bones. The shadows folded inward, reshaped themselves with liquid grace, and then—
They were standing in his room.
Al’terans.
Their skin was darker than oil, bodies limned faintly in silver where the moonlight caught. Not glowing—but reflecting, like polished obsidian. Ethereal. Alien.
Predators.
