“Stop growling at every male who breathes within ten feet of me.”
The words came out sharper than I intended, slicing through the quiet corridor outside the war room where we’d just spent three exhausting hours mapping Ironfang’s march routes.
Zyrus froze mid-step—shoulders rigid, the low rumble in his chest cutting off like someone snapped a leash.
He turned slowly.
Those silver eyes had been mercury all morning—liquid, dangerous, barely contained.
Now they were molten.
“You want me to pretend I didn’t see the way Captain Torren looked at you when he handed over the scout reports?” His voice was velvet wrapped around broken glass. “The way his gaze lingered on your throat—on my mark—like he was imagining what it would feel like to put his teeth there instead?”
I crossed my arms, tr
