His hand slams against the bars. “Of course, I hated you, Meryn!” he hisses. My heart slams in my chest. A bolt of confusing electricity streaks up my spine, forcing my shoulders back. “Can you blame me? My family has waitedhundredsof years for your arrival, keeping the secret alive.I’vewaited. And when the Sturmfrost royal finally makes her appearance, she’sweakand in love with the person whose family stole her birthright!”
What… thefuck? Why can’t I get that out of my head?I’ve waited.I should be angrier. He called me weak. He spat out the word “love” like I was a dumb schoolgirl desperate for attention. But his eyes are a deep well of pain.
“Do you know how hard it was to see you with him?” he rasps. “To know who you were, even when you didn’t,sickeningmagic silencing me? To endure our wolves’ mate bond on top of it all?”
As if to emphasize his point, Anassa knocks down the thin filter I threw up between us.
Desire instantly pulses through me.
It’s punishing. It’s a need so strong that I’m almostangryat my emptiness. I look at Stark, and my entire body screams that I’m…missinghim.
It’s not sentimental. It’s not even solely physical, though unbearable heat floods between my thighs.
No. It’s soul-deep, centered at the core of who I am.
It’s like we were once carved from the same bone, sharing blood and breath. And then someone ripped him from me, only I can’trememberit happening. All that’s left is the fury and the enduring desire to go to him and restore what was lost.
To be with him in every goddess-damned way I can.
I try to back away. To flee from it because it isn’tme.
It’s Anassa’s bond to Cratos. It’s about Cratos, not Stark.
I don’t know why I?—
Stark’s arm lashes through the bars as I try to retreat. His gaze is intense. His grip is strong, but it’s… careful, too. He pulls me close until I’m pressed up against the bars, the cold iron seeping through my shirt and chilling my heated skin.
“Do you have any idea what it felt like to watch you at the Forging Ball in the dress I picked for you—”What?!“—swirling in your lover’s arms and bowing to his traitor father?”
Hisvoice. I think I can feel the vibrations of his growl dancing over the sensitive skin of my throat.
Stark’s never looked so…openbefore.
That dress. That dress that was so damn perfect for me. That made my heart sing.
Fuck, IthankedKillian for it.
Stark picked my dress. I can’t shake that.Stark picked my dress.
Then another thought crests. “Stark—before the Ascent, you came through the city. There was a man, a deserter…”
The man that Stark and Cratos tore apart before the public.
The man who had threatened me at my fight the night before.
Stark lifts his chin. “Yes,” he says simply.
Yes, he killed him because the man threatened me. Which means Stark had been there that night, watching me fight, somewhere in the crowd.
My knees weaken and I clutch the iron bars tighter. Then I meet his eyes, reeling. His breathing is slightly uneven. His jaw is ticking away. His hand on my arm is sending fucking bolts of lightning up my shoulder and melting me in heat.
I clench my jaw and push a gentle barrier back in place to dampen Anassa’s desire. But it’s still there. When she isn’t trying to hide it, it lingers deep in my mind.
Quiet but aching.
And Stark felt this the entire time.
Slowly, I lift my hand and place it softly over his wrist. His eyes widen. I watch the hair on his arm rise. Watch his lips part slightly. Then he looks away.
