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“No, Cerise. I won’t let you go into a witch encampment on your own.”

My eyes narrowed. “Let me? I didn’t realize I needed your permission.”

His golden irises flared, and a muscle worked in his jaw. “It’s not happening, and that’s final.”

Something hot and feral rose up inside me, and I had the strange, wild desire to slap him across the face. “You do not get to order me around. I’m not one of your subordinates. This is our best plan.”

He huffed a dry laugh. “Right. If you want to get yourself killed, it’s the perfect plan.”

“Like you just said, my magic is powerful and I can take care of myself,” I snapped. “Or was that all a lie?”

He pointed a finger at me. “You don’t know them like I do. You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

“I know exactly what witches are capable of, you patronizing bastard,” I snarled, drawing to my full height so I could glare at him. “In case it escaped your notice, I am a witch.”

“A witch who doesn’t know anything about her own kind! Tell me, have you ever faced an entire clan of witches before? Do you know how to prepare yourself when one of them attacks you?”

“I can handle it,” I bit out.

“You can’t even handle a simple spell without fumbling! You’re a mess, Cerise, and it will be the death of you.”

Anger erupted inside of me. With a roar of fury, I shoved him hard in the chest, my hands meeting a wall of muscle. He didn’t even flinch. “Arrogant asshole! You think if anyone other than you dares to come up with a plan, it’s complete shit. Because you’re the one who has to be right all the time, don’t you? Just like you were right to imprison the witch who did nothing wrong.” I let out a harsh, grating laugh. ”Yes, there’s no way a filthy witch could possibly come up with a good plan. Thank the gods I have a big, strong Wolven Mage to do all the hard work for me, because I’m just worthless without him.”

His nostrils flared. “I never said that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

I jabbed my finger into his chest. “You don’t know me.” Each word was firm and forceful. “You saw me botch one spell and think you have me all figured out, don’t you? I am far more powerful than you think. But you’re too blinded by your pride and your delirious notion of being right all the time to see it.”

His brows lowered, and he bared his teeth. His arms were rigid at his sides as he stepped closer until he loomed over me. I should have been intimidated—he was so much taller than I was. But the fury still burned within me, eager to be unleashed.

“You don’t know me either, witchling,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. “So I suggest you stop making assumptions before you say something you’ll regret.”

I snorted. “I don’t think I’ll regret putting you in your place. You’re probably so used to getting your way that you don’t know what it’s like to have someone challenge you.”

A deep growl emanated from his throat. “If you’re not careful,” he said, his voice low and menacing, “then you’ll be wearing those shadow cuffs again.”

Sparks shot through me, and I couldn’t help myself; I smacked him so hard on the cheek that his head swiveled.

But that wasn’t enough. The churning fire coursing through me needed more. Magic boiled inside me, and energy prickled along my fingers. I raised my hand again, prepared to cast a spell, but Alaric caught my wrist mid-air, freezing me in place. I let out a frustrated noise and lifted my other hand, but he caught that, too. With a tug, he yanked me forward until I nearly collided with his chest.

“Go ahead, witchling,” he whispered. “Go ahead and try.”

I grunted, struggling to free myself, but his grip was like steel. Again and again, I yanked my hands fruitlessly, muttering under my breath, “Entitled… piece of… shit…”

He bent over, leaning so close our noses almost touched. “I’m waiting.”

I huffed an angry breath, wanting to spit in his smug face. I was panting, unable to get enough air. And gods, this rage, this volatile inferno pulsing inside me was only burning hotter. It consumed me, scorching my veins and making my blood boil. Heart pounding, pulse racing, blood pumping… I could feel his heavy breaths, too, and the way his anger fueled him.

Then I realized just how close our bodies were. My leg was pressed along his muscular thigh. His fingers curled more tightly around my wrists, and my arms were flush with his bare chest. I could feel his rapid heartbeat against my hand. I wasn’t sure when things shifted. But the longer we stood there, the more the explosive emotions inside me started morphing into something else—something new.

My pulse spiked for an entirely new reason now. I stared up at him, his breath hot against my face, his lips close enough to kiss. The burning energy inside me yearned for something entirely different. Heat pooled in my core. I wanted to draw closer. To press against him. To writhe and grind along that bulge between his legs. To elicit a growl from him again, not out of anger but of need.

Mine, something within me whispered. He is mine.

Alaric’s breath hitched, and his pupils flared. I wondered if he could somehow sense when my thoughts shifted in this way. Was he thinking the same thing? Was this something he wanted, too?

And what if it was? Would he take me right here in the forest? Would he splay me on the ground and bury himself inside me without a care for where we were or who might see us?

For a second, I allowed myself to envision it. His powerful muscles caging me. Our sweat mingling along with our moans. Him spreading my legs, thrusting into me so deeply I saw stars.