GRAYSON PULLED MAILAH FORWARD AND KISSED HER—a hard, brief, proprietary press of his lips that tasted of iron and a dark, unspoken promise.
It wasn't the kiss of a man saying goodbye; it was the kiss of a king marking what belonged to him before heading into battle.
"The Council's courier must be at the perimeter," he said, his voice dropping into a flat, lethal register.
"Stay here," he commanded, his eyes swirling with that dangerous, molten silver.
He didn't wait for her to argue. He turned on his heel and vanished into the hallway, the heavy library doors closing with a thud that echoed through the cavernous room.
Mailah stood in the center of the library, the silence rushing back in to fill the space he had occupied.
