Lyra
For one heartbeat, I couldn’t breathe.
Killian stood there at the edge of the corridor that led out of the house, his tall frame half-shadowed by the trees. The wind lifted his hair gently, but his eyes, those deep, stormy eyes, were fixed on me with unreadable intensity.
My fingers trembled as I looked at Damon’s figure on the ground, my breath still ragged from the rage that had overtaken me. I had thrown Damon out of my house like a sack of trash, naked, bleeding and humiliated. And now Killian had seen it all.
Would he hate me?
I waited for the disgust, the condemnation. Maybe even a command to step away from him again. I had shown him the ugliest part of myself, violent, unrestrained, trembling with fury. I braced myself for his judgment.
But instead of talking, Killian to
