Sadness throbbed in Tryson 's chest that it had come to this. That his brother's rage and jealousy would possibly pressure Tryson to quit his existence if he did not submit. For a second he nearly grieved, almost conceded his gratitude, even though it would have bolstered his brother's authority.
But then Lhars smiled and drew a single finger down the outdoor of Diane 's arm. A mild touch—and especially possessive.
As Diane yanked her arm back, rage and electricity exploded in Tryson 's chest. He flowed forward snarling, "It's your funeral."
~ Diane ~
Tryson prowled forward, chin low and eyes shining with the glint of death, stealing Diane 's breath because she'd in no way seen him seem to be like such a… predator.
For a blink she noticed him as others must—the honed body, the det
