The leather-bound documents lay scattered across the carpet like giant, pale autumn leaves under the moonlight. I couldn't move. My bare feet felt rooted to the floor, and my breath was trapped tightly inside my chest.
Julian stood in the doorway, a dark, massive shadow against the dim light of the corridor. He didn't have his claws out. He didn't look angry. Instead, his posture was completely relaxed, yet the sheer physical mass of his broad shoulders filled the entire entryway, blocking any hope of escape.
"Julian," I whispered, the name slipping out of my mouth before I could stop it.
He didn't yell. He didn't call the guards to drag me down to the cells. He simply stepped into the room, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him. He walked with a slow, deliberate grace, his amber
