The room shuddered with them, shards of wood jutting from the floor, hanging plants falling wildly as shattered mugs rattled his boots.
Her innocence crashing to pieces around them.
Ronan lowered himself until his chest pressed flush to hers, her fangs a breath from his mouth, her pulse hammering against his sternum so loudly he savored it.
“Our time will come, Viper,” he said, his tone a vow rather than a threat.
She snapped, fangs catching the corner of his mouth, drawing the faintest sting of blood. The taste hit him immediately, iron, heat,her. Because themoment she bit him, the smear of crimson already glistening on her own lips brushed against his.
A warning. A promise.
His answering smirk was slow.
“That mouth will be your ruin one day,” he warned. Smoke moved up from his shoulders, slipping around her wrists, her throat, a phantom of restraint, a threat he didn’t need to make, but enjoyed giving. “You’d spill me here without hesitation,” he murmured. “But you’ll dream of this instead.”
Her legs tightened around him, a trap, and for one fractured second, Ronan almost gave in, almost bent the last inch to let violence become something else entirely.
Almost.
He drew back, and dusk followed, smoke brushing her cheek as he pulled away. Wings expanded as they split the air, a sift tearing open like a wound in the world behind them.
“Do try to behave in my absence,” he said.
A wink followed, both infuriating and deliberate as Ronan vanished into the dark, the echo of her snarl following him.
And when he tasted the blood still clinging to his tongue, he hated himself for swallowing.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Verena
SWEAT SLICKED MY SPINE, MY CHEEKS BURNING CRIMSON as I swiped the back of my hand across my forehead.
The crisp breeze that swept by did nothing to cut through the sun bearing down mercilessly, a tyrant turning me into a puddle.
Of course it chose training day.
“Alright—” Callum clapped, his voice carrying with all the authority of a war drum. His bare chest caught the light, gilded and glistening, and I hated him for it. “One hundred jump squats to start.”
My knees nearly buckled. I bent forward, palms braced against them, gasping like a mortal on their deathbed.
“One hundred,” I echoed, wheezing, “in a row?”
Twenty miles as a warm-up and now this? The Gods could strike me down and it would still feel more lenient.
The courtyard was eerily still today. No clang of steel, no snarled curses, no dust from sparring boots. Just a few guards jogging half-hearted laps along the perimeter.
Meaning Callum, Duke and I had the entire expanse to ourselves.
“One hundred,” Callum repeated, maddeningly calm as he hooked a foot behind him in another stretch, “for the first set.”
I straightened, spine stiff despite the protest screaming through it, and fixed my stare on him, hoping my eyes alone might light him on fire.
A finger tapped against my chin as I said, “Hm. I wonder who’ll take over after I kill you.”
He only smiled. Bastard.
A blinding ray of sunlight hit my face directly, and I raised an arm, squinting toward it. Midday already and it felt like we had only just begun training today.
