Ian's POV
The morning came too quickly. The light of it was cold - purple and cruel - and when the heavy door groaned open, I was still seated by the small fire they allowed to burn in the hearth, staring into its belly like it could offer an escape.
Kaelric entered, his cloak snapping like a banner behind him. For a moment, I thought it was someone else. His eyes were darker than usual, his jaw set like carved rock.
"You assaulted Lazhara?" he said, his tone more like an accusation than a question.
I didn't answer. My spine stiffened.
He walked until he stood before me and then, without warning, grabbed my neck. Not hard enough to crush, but enough that I felt his claim. His breath ghosted over my cheek, and his voice dipped into something primal.
"Listen well, small wolf," he grow
