Denver.
Christopher’s hand closes around her wrist before I can stop myself from noticing.
It is not gentle. It is not ceremonial. It is the grip of ownership.
"What is happening here, Selena?" I wondered as I watched them close the distance between us.
“Uncle,” Christopher says, drawing her forward through the crowded hall. “May I present my mate. Selena.”
Her gaze lifts to mine, and whatever hope I have that this is a coincidence dies instantly. Recognition flashes between us, brief but unmistakable. Her breath catches. Her lashes flutter. She does not smile.
She remembers me.
A thousand thoughts collide in my skull, but my expression remains unchanged. Years of rule have taught me how to become immovable, how to turn myself into something unreadable even when the ground beneath m
