Julian's POV
Night had swallowed the Argent estate whole. Inside the private study, a single sconce burned low, throwing long shadows across the carved oak panels.
Alaric sat in the high backed chair he had occupied for the last forty years. Age had thinned his hair and lined his face, but his eyes were the same as they had been the day he buried his only daughter. Pale. Cold. Predatory.
"Vivienne came down off the mountain?" he asked.
"Half an hour ago." I kept my voice even, the way I always did in front of him. Cultured. Pleasant. The mask my family had taught me to wear before I could spell my own name.
The pleasantness never reached my eyes anymore.
A flicker moved across his face. Hunger. The way an old hound looks when it finally scents blood after a long, dry winter. It was n
