Malric’s Pov
The chamber door closed behind Seraphine like the slamming of a coffin. The echo rang through the stone walls, but I hardly heard it. My fury was a storm beneath my skin, my claws itching to tear through Caleb’s throat, to end this web of deceit in blood and bone.
Yet Delilah stood before me, her hand on my chest, her calmness an anchor. “Don’t go to him now,” she whispered. “Not yet. Let him think he has the upper hand. I have my own plans for him.”
Her eyes caught mine, molten fire in their depths, and I felt my restraint fray. I wanted war, but more than that, I wanted her. The taste of her defiance. The heat of her body pressed against mine until all sense of right and wrong was consumed by instinct.
“You’re asking me to wait,” I growled, lowering my forehead to hers.
