The room was colder than it should have been.
Not from the air-conditioning, not from the rain whispering against the tall windows,but from the man seated behind the dark oak desk, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, watching me as though he had already peeled my soul open and laid it bare before him.
Dominic Moretti.
Valen’s brother.
I hadn’t expected to meet him so soon. Truthfully, I hadn’t expected to meet him at all,not like this, not in a room that smelled of leather, smoke, and something metallic, sharp enough to cut.
“You must be Elara,” he said at last.
His voice was velvet laced with gravel. Smooth enough to draw you closer, rough enough to slice if you got too near. He didn’t stand. Didn’t extend a hand. He simply watched me.
And suddenly, the air in my lungs felt too
