A strangled squeak burst from Elva before she slapped both hands over her mouth. Her face went scarlet, and traitor that she was, her eyes darted downward—towardCallum.
Ford spread his arms wide. “Gods, it’s beenmonthssince any of us...” He gave an obscene little gesture with his hands, wiggling his brows. “Maybe what this group really needs is to blow off a little steam.”
Nezra choked on her canteen, sputtering up water before muttering something sharp under her breath about men being insufferable. Kanoa, on the other hand, shifted instantly, a wall of muscle as he angled himself in front of Inessa, eyes narrowing as though Ford had just suggested auctioning her off.
Ronan didn’t say a word, but a dark haze drifted across the ground between us like a threat, shielding. As if to remind the entire camp—no one touches her.
And through it all, Ford just smirked wider.
“Ford,” I pointed toward the nearest tree, “time out.”
Grumbling under his breath, his eyes went skyward, arms shooting out to his sides as he dragged himself in front of a tree and began counting,loudly.
His words were crass, meant as a joke. But fates curse me, my mind became its own and drifted toward Ronan. Every nerve seemed aware of him. Aware of the smoke curling possessively around my legs as if it had the right. And maybe Ford wasn’t entirely wrong. Maybe we did need to blow off some steam.
My stare snagged on Killian for half a breath. Sharp jaw, thick, walnut hair, eyes that promised undoing. Hot in that infuriating, dangerous way. The thought came, wicked and fast, and I knew I’d never speak it aloud.
No.
The bond yanked, and my eyes went back to Ronan, drawn as if by fate’s cruel hand. His stare was already on me, unreadable, though the desire there was impossible to miss. My teeth caught my lower lip, a reckless bite, before I could stop myself. Maybe he’sexactlywhat I needed.
After Nezra laid an illusion around the pixies’ camp, ensuring their safety for the time being, we had decided to go Ronan’s way.
Which, in theory, did make more sense. However, theory didn’t account for the painful weight of three extra days of travel. Still, when the path stayed clear of Obrann’s soldiers, of Reve, I told myself it was worth it.
Though, the raging desire to poison and gut him grew more alive every day. I could almost taste it. It was metallic and vengeful. And so, so close.
But it wasn’t just rage that pulled at me. There was still Ronan. My knuckles hadn’t even split from the punch I’d landed after he returned from saving Willa. But something between us had.
In that moment, when I’d clung to him, I hadn’t cared who saw, hadn’t cared that my desperation had been written across my face. Until Inoticedthat they had seen. Until all at once, they had watched him win.
Why him? The man who’d turned his back on a crown, who’d slain my serpent and set my village ablaze for the pleasure of it. It should have been simple: loathe, kill, move on. But every argument I crafted unraveled as an unnamed fragment inside me answered with a traitorousyes.
I clamped my jaw shut because wanting was a luxury I could not afford. To let myself fall for him felt like training fate’s hand—invite it in and it would learn where to strike. If I gave him any part of me, I would only teach the world how to take him too.
The bond lit into a rope of starlight and flame, pulling at my ribs with a gravity I’d never known. And I knew, it was better to tear myself apart than watch that tether snap and leave me unmade.
Or so I helplessly hoped.
“Don’t you squint at me.” I stood awkwardly inside Ronan’s tent, my stance uncomfortable against the hard-packed floor.
He didn’t move from the corner, perched like some great beast. Smoke wound idly around him, warping the shadows, veiling everything but the gleam of his eyes.
I hadn’t sought him out by choice when we made camp for the night. Not really. But when the tether between us strained so tight it hurt to breathe, I’d ended up here.
And gods, the sight that greeted me—
When I walked in, he’d been nearly bare, only a thin wrap of cloth slung low around his waist, damp curls coiled against his head from a recent wash.
The bond hadnotsteered me wrong.
The cloth was gone now, replaced by loose pants that did nothing to dim the carved planes of his body. His chest remained uncovered, bronzed and cut like hewn stone. I’d counted those muscles—one, two, five times before he caught me staring and cloaked himself in darkness.
Stealer of joy.
“I said I was sorry. I didn’t think the punch wasthathard. Shall I kiss it in hopes that it will mend your wounded heart?” I propped my hands beneath my chin, fluttering my lashes as I feigned redemption.
The glow in his eyes deepened, the haze dispersing until he nearly stood bare again, all muscle and smoke-streaked skin. My breath hitched as he moved, until the space between us dissolved.
