ATASHA’S POV
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He kissed me, gently, almost patient at first. His warm breath and the faint taste of wine, hum quietly against my lips. His hand skimmed my waist, palm steady as it mapped the curve of my hip, then higher, finding the wild thrum of my heart.
I should have frozen.
I should have flinched the way prey does under a predator’s paw.
Instead, I answered.
A soft sound escaped before I could swallow it. My fingers curled in the wool lapel of his shirt, anchoring me in a storm I’d never learned to survive.
His mouth deepened the kiss, slow turning to urgent, coaxing want from places fear had long starved. When his teeth grazed my lower lip I gasped, and he drank the sound like approval. The hand at my waist slid up, calluses brushing my bare skin. Heat flared inside me.
“Breathe,” he murmured against my mouth, and I realized I wasn’t.
I drew in air, sharp, trembling, flavored with cedar smoke and rain. Every sense felt raw, the fire’s crackle, his pulse beneath my palm, the scrape of stubble catching silk skin. He smelled of iron and winter and something yet unnamed that pulled a reckless ache from my chest.
“Look at me,” he said.
I did. His gray eyes which almost looked like steel, locked onto mine. He studied me the way a predator studies a puzzle. Power shimmered behind that gaze. Hunger lingered too, not just physical, but something deeper, darker. A craving to own, to test, to consume.
And beneath it all, a question burned quietly between us.
Would I bend for him… willingly, completely?
Or would I resist… until I shattered?
“You’re not shaking,” he repeated, softer this time, almost curious.
“I’m past shaking,” I whispered. “There’s nothing left to fear.” That was a lie and I knew he knew, he heard it.
His thumb brushed the curve beneath my breast, testing. My breath stilled again, not from fright but from the strange, sharp thrill of it. The edge he dangled me over tilted closer to
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Chapter 8
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ruin, yet some stubborn shard inside refused to cower.
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He felt that defiance. I saw it flicker behind his gaze. “Good,” he said. “A consort should know when to bare her throat and when to bare her teeth.”
The hand roaming my skin found the thin scar I’d earned training years ago, one of the few marks that never healed pretty. It was the one near my heart. Just above it. A few more inches and I would have died. But I didn’t. Instead, the wound healed on its own. That was the day I discovered my ability.
He traced it. “Flawed blade,” he murmured, echoing his earlier taunt. “But tempered.”
His lips curved into a faint smile before he pressed a kiss to the scar as if trying to rewrite its meaning with his own. Heat bloomed low in my belly, curling through me like wildfire.
His hand trailed along my side before rising to cup my breast. A sharp gasp escaped me as heat bloomed deep in my core. Then, a knock shattered the moment like glass.
The world rushed back in. I let out a deep breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
Cassian’s expression darkened instantly. He turned his head toward the door, voice sharp with annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you not to disturb me?”
“My lord,” came the urgent reply from the other side. “The Demon Fang has launched an attack. They’ve tripled their numbers. We believe they’ll breach the border and reach the pack’s territory within the hour.”
I froze. My blood turned cold.
The Demon Fang, rogues who had no allegiance, only a hunger for the blood of their own kind. They’d been a looming threat ever since they carved out their so–called kingdom, but this… this would be the first time they dared to launch a direct assault on our pack.
Coincidence?
I heard him snicker. Then he took a step back, took a coat and suddenly covered me with it. I froze but chose to focus. “The Demon Fang’s territory is not that far. An hour is an overestimate. They rely on the dark to make trickeries. I- I’ve seen the wounds that their weapons made,”
My words seemed to catch him off guard, and for once, I found the courage to meet his eyes. “Please be careful,” I said, my voice softer than I expected.
Then I froze. I wasn’t sure where the boldness had come from. Those words just slipped out before I could stop my mouth from speaking. Flustered, I rushed to add, “It’s just… if something happens to you, I might get stuck here. In this place.”
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Chapter 8
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As soon as the words left my mouth, I winced inwardly. That sounded selfish, didn’t it? Like I only cared because it would affect me. I opened my mouth again, trying to fix it. “I—I didn’t mean it like that, I just―”
He chuckled before I could finish. Cassian’s chuckle deepened into something low and wicked, like he found far too much amusement in my flustered spiral. His gaze dropped as he wrapped his coat around me.
“If I had known you cared so much about my safety,” he said, voice velvet with mischief, “I would’ve taken my time finishing what we started.”
My mouth opened, yet nothing came out.
He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing the shell of my ear. “But if I don’t make it back…” He paused, just long enough for my heart to catch in my throat. “You’ll have to find another way to relieve all that tension I just built.”
My face went up in flames.
Air. I needed air.
He pulled back with a slow grin that told me he knew exactly what he was doing, and just how red I’d turned. Then, without another word, he dipped his head and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. The gesture was brief, but it left my chest twisted in something far worse than panic, something tender yet dangerous.
“Wait here,” he said, straightening and fastening the last strap of his armor. “I’ll be back.”
And then he was gone, cloak snapping behind him like a warning.
I stood frozen, still wrapped in his coat, my skin flushed, my thoughts tangled, and my dignity barely intact. I wanted to scream into the pillows. Or melt into the floor. Or both.
With shaking hands, I peeled off the coat and searched for something decent to wear. After a few frantic minutes, I found a simple set of clean clothes, a soft tunic and dark leggings, folded neatly on the nearby chaise. I assumed they had been placed there earlier and gratefully slipped into them. My body still hummed with leftover heat, but I tried to focus on the looming threat beyond these walls, not the man who had just kissed me breathless.
I had just started to smooth down my hair when a quiet knock came at the door.
I stiffened.
A second later, it creaked open, revealing a girl no older than fifteen or sixteen. She had a delicate face, round with nervous eyes and a slight frame that barely filled out the crisp uniform she wore. It was similar to the colors of Cassian’s personal guard, black with silver
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Chapter 8
trim, the red crest of the Valemont sigil stitched neatly at the shoulder.
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“I’m sorry to disturb you, my lady,” the girl said with a slight bow. “The Lord sent this to help calm your nerves.”
She held up a small silver tray, balanced carefully in her hands. On it sat a single porcelain cup filled with steaming tea, the scent floral and slightly sweet.
“Oh,” I said, blinking at her. “Thank you.” That was a bit unexpected. Did I misjudge the monster after all?
She gave a hesitant smile, then turned to go.
I watched her leave, assuming without much thought that she was one of Cassian’s people. The uniform, after all, matched his. And I hadn’t seen many of the castle’s servants yet. It made sense.
I brought the cup closer, fingers wrapping around the delicate ceramic. Then I immediately realized something.
The aroma was… off.
Not wrong exactly, but strange.
I frowned and brought it closer to my nose.
Then I felt it beneath the floral scent, something metallic lingered, faint but unmistakable. Like rust, or old coins, or-
My stomach sank.
Poison.
田
AD
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