Page 56 of Savage Crown

It should have been fear.

Instead, it was a challenge.

I down the rest of my drink and slam the glass onto the desk, ignoring the way my pulse refuses to settle.

The Midnight Den is never truly silent.

Even at this hour, I can hear the faint sounds of movement from the lower halls—the shifting of steel, murmured voices, the rustling of parchment as deals are made in the dark.

I should be down there, making sure my network holds steady, ensuring that my world doesn’t unravel while I waste time thinking about a human who shouldn’t matter.

Instead, I find myself moving toward the door.

My steps are slow. Measured. As if I don’t know where I’m going.

But I do.

Of course, I do.

My feet carry me toward the hall where she sleeps.

The space where I’ve kept her caged.

Mine, but not mine.

Owned, but never tamed.

I reach her door before I can talk myself out of it.

I should leave.

I should turn around.

I should?—

The door is slightly ajar.

I go still.

A moment of hesitation. Before I can think about it, I push it open.

She’s asleep.

Or at least, she was.

Her breathing is uneven, her body curled on the too-small cot, one arm thrown over her forehead. The dim light of the lantern casts golden shadows across her skin, tracing the bruises she still carries from the mission I sent her on.

I should feel satisfied.

She survived.

She proved herself.

But all I feel is restless.

All I see is the way her lashes flutter, the way her lips part as she exhales softly?—

And I know.

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