Tristan
The stone walls of the manor felt like they were closing in on me. Every flickering torch I passed in the corridor felt like an accusation, a tiny sun reminding me of the blinding silver light I had seen in the Mirror of the Moon.
I slammed the door to my chambers and bolted it, leaning my back against the heavy wood. My breath was ragged, coming in sharp, shallow bursts that did nothing to cool the fire in my blood.
Mate.
The word was a parasite in my brain. It defied every logic of the Silver Creek hierarchy. It defied my father’s legacy. It defied the very survival of my bloodline.
Rena.
Vane was silent now, but it wasn't the silence of absence. It was the silence of a predator that had finally found its target and was waiting for the right moment to strike. He didn't need
