The Gilded Wolves

He looked down to where her fingers still touched his wrist. Neither of them moved. He could hear her breath, shallow and fast, from across the table. Not once since they had agreed to work together three years ago had she read his objects. At her touch, he felt dangerously exposed. He had to leave. Now.

“It’s my life, Séverin,” she said stonily. “And it means a great deal to me.”

He flushed. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

“I don’t care what you meant. I care about something getting in the way of my search,” said Laila fiercely. “Your ego included.”

Hypnos loosed a breath. “I hate when I have to do this! Flaring tempers, veiled threats, ugh. It ages me, mon cher, and I detest that.”