(Violet P.O.V)
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe.
Lucian—Luc—was sitting on the damn throne.
Not lounging on a penthouse couch or tangled in my silk sheets, but high above me, wrapped in velvet and iron and power, with golden eyes that looked through me like I was just another case file in a pile he couldn’t be bothered to care about.
My Luc was warm. Rough hands, quiet mouth. Always patient when I was cold. Always there when the bond screamed from Ronan’s betrayal.
No. No, this has to be wrong...?!
A murmur rippled through the room. One of the soldiers flanking the steps stepped forward, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Do not disrespect the King,” he snapped. “Bow properly or be removed.”
I was still kneeling, but I’d looked too long. Too directly. Lycan protocol demanded submiss
