I'd spotted Silas a couple of times at my family home, stealing onto the estate with the mortal contractors brought in to deal with Evvie's engagement.

Evvie.

I missed her terribly.

Lise too. My parents, as well.

A pang of heartache ricocheted against my chest. I sank down to my knees and hugged Sage, burying my face into his wisps of mist, breathing him in and expelling the misery. Nothingness clung to Sage as well as the faint scent of the rancid dead chicken he loved so much.

Sliding my cheek against Sage's flank, my gaze skimmed along the floor as my mind turned inward, rifling through the last moments I'd been in my family home.

After learning the truth of the Alverac I'd ran to my bedroom, determined to do as Graysen had begged me—run. I was going to grab some clothes, get Sage and Evvie, and we'd all escape. Instead, I'd encountered me—a changeling.

I'd inhaled magic-infused dust.

I couldn't breathe and was suffocating.

I thought I was going to die.

Silas had caught me as I fell, held me in his arms, and given me his own breath to break through the magic that had ensnared my lungs. I'd gazed upon a striking face framed with white-blond hair as pale as my own, bright Kingfisher-blue eyes staring down at me in reverence. He'd stared at me as if he already knew me, or the idea of me at least. He'd certainly spoken that way, with familiarity, at the cottage too. Which was strange, because I'd never met him before.

I thought on Silas. "Handsome," I decided. I tilted my head to look up at Graysen.

One lonely eyebrow rose. "Handsome? That's not much of a fucking description."

Untangling my arms from Sage, I drifted my fingertips over my own face as I thought about the best way to describe Silas to see if I could taunt the tamer. "He has these amazing cheekbones and these hollows," I said, brushing my fingers across the swelling curve of my own cheeks. "Silky blond hair, and these full pouty lips, and he's..." I shrugged a shoulder, thinking about Silas's features and wondering how to word it to wind Graysen up further. "Really pretty."

Graysen squinted at me. "You do realize you just described Barbie Doll Ken."

Despite the severity of our conversation I almost burst out laughing. Instead, I chewed my laughter back and schooled my features into a dreamy gaze. "Handsome," I sighed wistfully as I rose and wandered away.

"You've already said that," I heard behind me, the voice rough-edged and irritated.

Graysen didn't notice the cunning look I shot him before I turned around slowly, making an appreciative humming sound just before I said once more, "Handsome."

He advanced, prowling, and I backed away, retreating. Both of us held each other's defiant gazes, neither of us blinking. I jolted as my spine hit the bookcase.

Graysen stepped into my personal space, boxing me in with his arms on either side of my body, and gripped the lip of a bookshelf. I looked up at him beneath the fringed shadows of my eyelashes, my breath trapped in my throat at his close proximity. "I like the sound of handsome, and he was very handsome," I breathed.

His voice was a rich, seductive challenge. "I thought you liked stupidly beautiful?"

I rose on tippy-toes and crooked my finger. He hesitated, wariness fraying the gold ring around his black irises because I'd taunted him not so long ago with Master Sirro. Finally, slowly and cautiously, he bowed his head and I leaned close, placing a hand on his chest to steady myself, the heat of his powerful body warming my palm. Soft black hair brushed along my nose and cheek as I whispered into his ear, my voice husky, "Stupidly beautiful has its place if it behaves itself." I gently blew a breath against the shell of his ear. His fingers tightened on the shelf. Wood cracked then splintered, and books spilled to the floor in a thunderous clatter as a full body-shiver rippled through his tall physique and he gritted out a low, desperate groan.

When I eased back down, I watched the gold flecks in his irises burn as hot as the flames of a forge. His eyes were fixed on mine with dark want before they dipped to my mouth to stare at my lips with hungry intent.

I tilted up my chin defiantly. "But maybe I've moved on. Maybe handsome is preferable."

Those inflamed black eyes snapped to mine. "He kidnapped you."

"Pot. Kettle. Black," I shot back, ducking under one of his arms.

He turned swiftly. The movement sent a surge of featherlight air to skim along my body. A gentle sting flared across my scalp as he tugged sharply on the end of one of my locks of hair, and I stilled, waiting to see what he would do. My heart kicked into a faster pace, and my breathing became uneven as he stepped right behind me. It was a dangerous game I was playing, fraught with quicksand.

It was impossible not to arch my neck to allow him to slowly draw a single calloused fingertip along the delicate column, all the way down to the curve of my exposed shoulder where the dress's sleeve hung loose on my upper arm. My entire focus was narrowed on that touch and the line of delicious heat it evoked. A moment later I sucked in a sharp breath as his stubble-dusted cheek prickled my flesh. I felt a rake of teeth against my throat before he nudged his nose through my hair, and this time it was his lips that teased my sensitive ear. "Is Silas blond? Like your kind of blond?" he whispered, the low vibration of his gravelly voice arrowing lust right to my inner core. Beneath the thin dress, my thighs clenched helplessly and I bit down hard on my bottom lip to stop the moan from escaping.

Holy Skalki...

I swallowed thickly, nodded, and turned around to face him as he straightened. I steeled myself against the thrall of the tamer, and let him play with the lock of hair, winding it around his finger as he asked in a more serious tone, "Is he about six foot high?" Silas was lean, more of a wiry build, and obviously not as tall as Graysen either, who towered above me at 6-foot-4. "Bright blue eyes? Like fucking bright-bright blue eyes."

His question doused the flames of desire instantly. "Yes." I tilted my head and frowned at his description because Graysen had obviously spotted Silas too. "You've seen him? Met him?"

"Kinda," he said, rubbing the lock of hair between the tips of his fingers and thumb. His gaze sharpened on me. "Silas was there with..." His nostrils flared and his eyes darkened. We both knew he was referring to Danne. He shrugged casually, but there was nothing casual in his bitter tone. "When I roughed him up outside the engagement marquee. Told him to keep away from you."

I blinked, and a small part of me softened. "You did?"

"Fuck, yes."

A sliver of me felt grateful that he'd done that. It hadn't worked though.

"I thought Silas was his bodyguard," he murmured a moment later.

"Guess not."

His gaze dropped to the strands of silky-blond hair he twined around his finger. His brows slashed forward before his jaw flexed. A moment later, he agreed quietly, "Yeah, I guess not."

I remained silent and he took it as I'd intended, an invitation to ask another question. "How did Silas bind your wyrm?"

The Crowthers had to use physical force and the magic of Zrenyths's rope and chains and wyrm-harpoons. But all Silas had to do was give that vile man magical dust, which I'd inhaled when he'd blown it at my face. It had instantly bound and trapped my wyrm within me.

My gaze slid sideways as I tapped my mouth with a fingertip, pretending to think on it.

Interesting question.

My hand fell away to settle on my hip. "Some sort of dust I breathed in. I don't know what it was. It trapped the wyrm, or rather, my wyrm had to shield itself from its dark magic." And then I casually dropped, "I couldn't breathe either."

His head snapped up, gaze narrowing on me as sharp as a predator. "You couldn't breathe?"

"I thought I was going to suffocate to death," I whispered, wide-eyed.

Shock barreled across his features, anger too. "How—"

"How did I manage to breathe again?"

I leisurely turned around and drifted idly toward the kitchen. My movement gently rippled the soft layer of my dress and the white material contoured to my figure. I didn't need to see him to know that Graysen was blatantly staring. The intensity of his gaze sliding over my body blazed hotter than summer sunshine. But I did catch the way his throat bobbed when I turned back toward him. I stopped, bending a knee slightly to shift my weight onto one leg, and rested a hand on the kitchenette's counter. I held his gaze and smiled slyly. "Silas kissed me."

A flare of silver like a ribbon of lightning erupted through the black of his irises. His entire body went rigid. "He did what?"

"He. Kissed. Me."

Graysen strode right for me and I took a couple of quick steps backward. "And I liked it a lot," I said, taunting him with a cruel smirk. "He was a really good kisser. Really good."

Graysen was almost upon me when he froze and keenly studied me.

A cold shiver of unease shuddered through my body the moment his shoulders relaxed and his black eyes lit up with glee.

His feet skimmed the soft carpet as he widened his stance and hooked his thumbs through the jeans' belt loops. Black hair slid sideways as he tilted his head and wagged his eyebrows. He purposely ran his tongue over his teeth.

Your lies taste sweet like honey.

Fuck him!

I bared my teeth and hissed, flipping him off.

His straight white teeth shone brightly within a cocky grin, and he leaned back on his heels as he laughed—a full, belly-shaking laugh. The sound slowly died and his grin became wolfish as he prowled a little closer. With each step, the bewitchment that bound us together danced across my skin, lulling my anger with its desirous melody as it whispered inside my mind to take what I wanted, whatever pleasure he could give me.

Graysen's glittering black eyes radiated pure challenge and his gaze slipped all over my body like sticky honey, a tangible caress that spiked a desperate craving for more. "I think you prefer stupidly beautiful." He wasn't even touching me and the low sonorous rumble of his voice was a sensual stroke between my thighs. I closed my eyes and cursed myself. Shame and pleasure twined together, scorching my body from the inside out—a humiliating reminder of how swiftly my body reacted to his, how quickly he could arouse me with just his voice.

Hellsgate. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go.

I clenched my hands by my sides and released a long slow breath. Slowly, I pried my eyelashes apart only to see pure male satisfaction glowing in his eyes. Craving too.

The salad bowl was a woefully useless shield, but I scooped it up and held it at my middle. I backed away further so I could quickly snatch a plastic spoon from the cutlery drawer and held it like a weapon. "Goodnight," I said, skirting widely around him and hurrying toward the safety of my bedroom.

Graysen was right on my heels as I quickly entered my room, but he didn't cross the threshold. Instead, he stood right in the doorframe, dwarfing it with his size.

My gaze hit the romance books of Tabitha's, which Penn had brought up for me from the library, sitting on the bedside table. I strode over and picked up the first book on the stack, the one that had shocked Graysen so much. Judging by the cover, his reaction was completely understandable. It screamed dirty erotica. The girl on the cover wore only a tiny, thin white t-shirt that barely covered her generous, curvy body. A sizzling hot beefy guy was pressed up against her, one hand dipped right between the apex of her thighs, his mouth ghosting her arched throat, tongue licking out. From her taut, blissed-out expression, she looked like she was on the verge of an earth-shattering orgasm.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I glanced up from the novel. Wasn't it obvious? "I'm settling in for the night with a good book." I flopped down on my bed on my stomach, bending my knees and crossing my ankles.

He instantly jerked his head back and scowled. "I haven't finished asking my questions."

I arched an imperious, smug eyebrow at him. This was my domain, my lair, as he was about to discover. "I'm done answering them. I've had a long day and I'm tired." I yawned dramatically and fluttered my eyelashes as if I were on the cusp of falling asleep.

Clearly a little pissed, Graysen slapped the door frame with the flat of his hand before he retreated and left me alone.

I heard his footsteps softened by carpet as he made his way back to the kitchenette, followed by the rush of water that filled the sink and the clatter of the wooden chopping board as, I supposed, he readied to do the washing up.

But I wasn't done with him.

I spooned a mouthful of salad. The juices of crisp peppers and celery bathed in thyme and marjoram burst across my tongue, followed by a zing of feta. I ate the delicious Salad of Anger while flicking through the book, skimming it until I found a heated scene, a seriously heated scene. I disappeared into a world of dirty, filthy sex, determined to make Graysen incredibly uncomfortable and remind him that two could play the same game. I grinned. Not long after I'd started reading and gotten swept away by it all, arousal thrummed through every inch of my body. My core ached in blissful torture, desperate for release, and outside my bedroom, I heard a sharp intake of breath followed by muttering of low curses, heavy footfall, and a door yank open and slam shut with a loud bang.

At first, I thought I'd driven Graysen from his quarters as I'd intended until I heard the splash of water raining down upon pebbles coming from inside the bathroom. I rolled my eyes as I flicked a page over. He was always having long-ass showers.

A minute later I blinked rapidly and cocked my head. My shocked gaze shot to the wall my bedroom shared with the bathroom.

I abruptly pushed myself upright to sit with my legs tucked underneath, wide-eyed and deathly still, listening. A moment later I quickly scurried from my bed to the wall, where I pressed my ear against it and strained to hear what was going on inside the bathroom.

The same sound came again. It was faintly spoken, groaned was a more appropriate description, yet distinct, coming from inside the other room—my name.

My mouth fell open as I jolted away from the wall.

Holy fucking Skalki!

And I suddenly realized, stupidly, why Graysen always favored long-assed showers.