Page 7 of Elven Crown

Fortunately, Rebecca hadn’t lost her ability to remain acutely aware of her own surroundings, no matter what thoughts and emotions swirled through her in the presence of someone like Rowan.

It hurt to walk away from him like that, just so Maxwell and his security team and anyone else watching wouldn’t see something she couldn’t let any of them see.

Rowan would get over it, though, she knew.

So would she.

Now that Shade’s elven prisoner had just accepted the Thon-Da’al’s offer to enter The Striving in exchange for all the answers he could ever possibly want—and some he might even wish he never had, she was sure—Rowan had also accepted the chance to prove himself.

At the very least, it bought Rebecca longer than five minutes to come up with a much better plan for getting Rowan Blackmoon out of this building, away from her task force, and hopefully out of Chicago altogether, if she played her cards right.

Rowan had taken the bait, given her an opportunity to spin this entire situation to her advantage. That was a hell of a lot more than she’d had when she’d stepped into that room tonight.

She had to get rid of him. He should never have been able to find her in the first place, and any amount of talking in private with that elf would only further jeopardize her anonymity within Shade. It would make it that much easier for Rebecca’s trueenemies to track her down here too, and she couldn’t let that happen.

The second she paused in the long hallway lining the rows of holding-room doors, however, a new trap revealed itself in her plan.

Rowan had agreed to The Striving without knowing anything about it, which was part of how Shade did things here, sure.

But what if he passed anyway?

What if he was successful, and he stayed, and Rebecca had to have that private conversation with him under both the old laws and the rules of this world?

Well, Rebecca would just have to add a little personal touch to Shade’s initiation ceremony. A little something extra worthy of a Blackmoon Elf and his inherent abilities.

Rebecca would rig the whole thing against this elf from Xahar’áhsh she had known so well and for so long. She would ensure he failed and deliver on her promise to kick him out of the compound, no questions asked.

She just needed to add the right twist to The Striving—something potent enough to ensure Rowan’s failure without outright destroying him.

If she miscalculated?

Rebecca might be the one left picking up the pieces when it all came crashing down.

3

Rebecca had barely reached the end of the stockade’s back hallway before the door slammed open and Maxwell stormed through like a raging hurricane, his silver eyes flashing as he closed the distance between them.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he growled without stopping, like he intended to keep going until he’d succeeded in an impressively violent clash between them.

The darkness inside him pulled at the darkness inside her—the intensity, the need, the intensifying strength of some deep, dark hole growing deeper and deeper…

A hole she couldn’t name, because it wasn’t like she’d had a lot of spare time to pour into studying whatever this new thing was between them.

But now she felt it as if she’d been smacked in the face and simultaneously punched in the gut instead. The ferocity of the emotion pouring off Maxwell in waves and careening right into her made Rebecca pause in the hall and turn around to face him.

She shouldn’t have.

The second she opened her mouth to answer his rather pointless question, Maxwell had already reached her. Now he loomed over her by at least a foot, thrusting his face down toward her as if he still thought he could force his new commander to back down through physical intimidation.

Hadn’t they already established that wasn’t going to work?

“You said five minutes,” he added with another flash of his silver eyes. “I gave you five minutes to interrogate the bastard, and you offered him a chance at The Striving?”

He was so incredibly close now, thrusting his face into hers, swaying slightly as he loomed over her and growled with every heavy, furious exhale.

Her neck already ached from craning it to meet his gaze, and it didn’t help that the physical tingling weight of his gaze on her was more intense now than ever—or that the scent of dew-studded grass and moonlight overlaid with earth and sandalwood made her want to do nothing but breathe him in forever.

Rebecca sucked in a sharp breath and tried to rip herself out of his intensity with words that actually made sense. “I was—”

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