The bond snapped like a whip.
Azric was the first to move again, because of course he was.
He stalked toward me with that smile that meant ruin, his violet eyes already darkening with magic. “You’ve been teasing us all night,” he murmured. “That red dress. That throne stunt. Those images you shoved into our heads before dinner—”
“You liked those,” I said, chin tilting up.
“Oh, we loved them,” Daxos said from behind, voice rougher than usual.
I turned, he was unstrapping his war leathers, letting them fall to the floor like they were suffocating him. The markings on his chest glowed faintly, magic pulsing like a war drum beneath his skin.
Sevrin hadn’t moved yet.
But his eyes…
His silver eyes tracked every inch of me like he was deciding how many sins he could commit in a single bre
