He stops a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Thorne," he says. His voice is smooth. Cultured. Absolutely devoid of warmth. "I am pleased you could attend."
"Your invitation was... compelling," I say.
"I thought it might be."
His eyes flick to Tamsin.
Linger on the choker.
And then his mouth curves.
Not a smile.
Asmirk.
"And you must be Ms. Beck," he says. "I have heard a great deal about you."
Tamsin's expression does not change.
"Have you."
"Yes. Your... financial history is quite fascinating."
The air goes cold.
And I mean that literally.
Literally.
My amber veins flare so bright they cast shadows across the marble floor.
My wings shift, the membrane pulling taut, the bone spurs extending slightly.
Because he just made a mistake.
Afatalmistake.
He just insulted my mate.
In public.
In front of witnesses.
And I am going to tear his throat out.
But before I can move—before I can close the distance and show him exactly what happens when someone threatens what is mine—Tamsin steps forward.
Her hand rests lightly on my chest.
Not restraining.
Just... grounding.
And then she turns to face Hale.
Her expression is calm.
