““You’re doing this so I can be happy.” His words were silk, but the smile he wore cut like a knife.

I lay still in the hospital bed, every beep of the monitor thudding like a countdown. My face tightened, fighting the sting in my chest. “But where is my happiness?”...

Alistor was already moving, slipping into the blind side of the guard line. His claws gleamed in the torchlight, wicked and curved, tearing through armor and flesh alike, cutting a scream short before it could rise. 

He didn’t fight like a soldier—he fought like a man in longing, desperate to be by her side. Every slash, every throat torn was a frantic step closer to her. His movements were flui...