Dark smoke curved around him in worship, twining his arms, drifting upward in a patient motion, as if waiting for permission to devour. The tendrils curled along his throat, tracing the runes inked along his neck, every wisp breathing in tandem with him.
No, not just any man at all.
His presence didn’t whisper power. It demanded it. It wasfelt.
And I couldn’t decide what unsettled me more, the way everything bent toward him, or the way my pulse did the same.
You don’t earn power like that. You’re born into it.
My hand moved before my mind did, the dagger rising the instant his mask came away. Its point knew where to go, aiming directly at the heart of the dragon prince.
Oh, Callum. What the fuck have you done?
He was terrifying. And utterly fucking beautiful.
Ronan D’Vyre. The heir, the Wraith, the Harrowed Prince of Ryuu.
His lips curved at the corners, a sultry smirk sharpening the cut of a jaw hewn from expected violence.
It was a face that came with consequences.
And those eyes, piercing green that sent heat spiraling low into my gut as they pinned me where I stood.
The ground wavered, every guard sprinting to get as far away from him as possible. Smoke bled from his hands between us, around us, spiraling to skim along my arms, brushing my throat in a wraith’s caress before sliding past.
He never broke eye contact. Neither did I.
Not until the choking began, wet gasps turning to strangled cries.
I tore my gaze away, to the guards clawing at their own throats, faces swelling blue, eyes bulging with terror. Tendrils slithered into their mouths, winding deep, stealing every breath.
Déjà vu indeed. It was like watching my serpent play all over again.
The Viper purred at the sight, recognizing the predator before us. Drawn to the danger, as I was.
The mist licked at my boots, unnoticed until it wrapped higher, winding my ankles, twining like it knew me.
One by one, the guards fell. Five men. Dead in seconds.
And Ronan hadn’t even moved.
“Efficient.” I stepped over the nearest corpse, pressing down a pinch harder where my heel landed on his neck. “Do you ever leave survivors, or is restraint beneath your royal skill set?”
One step, smoke teasing higher up my leg. “You sound disappointed.”
Fates curse me. His voice was dusk itself, low, sin-drenched, a promise of pleasure and suffering alike.
My instincts screamedrun.But my body, cursed and treacherous, stayed.
“Just verifying the rumors.” I forced calm, flippant, brittle as glass. “They say the dragon prince doesn’t fight. He just,” I gestured toward the bodies, “decides people are dead.”
The ground answered with a shudder as he stepped again, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Convenient trick, isn’t it?”
A small, razor-edged sound flicked off my tongue, barely audible. “I suppose, if you enjoy theatrics. Then sure.”
Something like a knowing smile swept across his mouth. “Oh, I imagine you’d know more about performance than most, Viper.”
It was neither sharp nor loud. Only certain.
