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"Hey," I said softly when I reached his side.

He didn't respond, didn't look up. I could see the tension in every line of his body, could almost feel it radiating from him in waves.

After a moment's hesitation, I placed my hand on his shoulder. The muscle beneath my palm was rock-hard, coiled tight with strain. Through the fabric of his shirt, I could feel the unnatural heat of his skin, a sign of the demonic blood that ran hot in his veins.

"Rowen," I tried again, letting my fingers press gently into his shoulder. "Take a breath."

For a long moment, he remained motionless. Then, with agonizing slowness, the rigid tension in his shoulders began to ease, just a fraction. His head remained bowed, his dark hair falling forward to obscure his face, but I could see his chest expand as he drew in a deep breath.

"That's it," I encouraged, moving my hand in small, soothing circles. "No book is worth destroying your library over."

A sound escaped him, not quite a laugh, but close. "Some might be."

His voice was rougher than usual, with an underlying rumble that reminded me of distant thunder. When he finally straightened and turned to face me, I had to suppress a gasp. His eyes were completely black, not just the irises, but the entirety of his eyes, as if the darkness of his demon nature had consumed them whole.

"Sierra." My name tumbling from his lips sounded like both a plea and a warning.

I should have stepped back. Should have given him space to collect himself, to rein in the demonic aspect that was clearly close to the surface. Instead, I kept my hand on his shoulder, my gaze steady on his face.

"Talk to me," I urged softly. "What's going on with you?"

His jaw clenched, the muscles working beneath his skin. "Nothing that concerns you."

The dismissal stung, sharpening my own frustration. "Bullshit."

His eyes narrowed at my tone, and I saw his tail twitch sharply. "Watch your language."

"Watch my— Are you fucking kidding me?" I couldn't help but laugh, though there was no humor in it. "I'm not one of your underworld subjects, Your Majesty. I don't take orders from you."

Something dangerous flickered in his expression. "Perhaps you should. It would keep you safer."

"Safe from what, exactly?" I challenged, letting my hand fall from his shoulder to plant both fists on my hips. "Because right now, the only thing making me feel unsafe is your attitude. You've been distant since my heat broke. Hell, you've been distant since you showed up again after abandoning me in the first place."

I saw the impact of my words, the slight flinch, quickly masked by anger. Good. I was tired of his stoic facade, tired of the walls he kept erecting between us.

"I did what was necessary," he growled, his voice dropping to a register that seemed to vibrate in my bones.

"Necessary for who?" I pressed. "Because it sure as hell wasn't necessary for me to be left thinking I meant nothing to you."

Across the table, Callum cleared his throat pointedly. "Perhaps I should leave you two to?—"

"Stay," Rowen and I commanded in unison, though neither of us looked away from each other.

The air between us seemed charged, crackling with tension. I wasn't sure if we were on the verge of a fight or something else entirely, but I refused to back down. I'd spent too long wondering, too long hurting over his unexplained departure.

"Rowen," I said, softer now but no less determined. "Just talk to me. Please."

Something in my plea must have reached him because I saw the rigid set of his shoulders slump slightly. He exhaled heavily, passing a hand over his face. When he looked at me again, his eyes had returned to normal, or as normal as they ever were, black irises against white.

"You should return to your research," he said, but the edge had gone from his voice, replaced by a weariness that seemed bone-deep.

I shook my head. "No. Not until you tell me what's going on with you."

For a moment, I thought he would refuse again. Then, to my surprise, he sank into the chair behind him, resting his elbows on his knees as he cradled his head in his hands.

It was such a human gesture of defeat that it caught me off guard. I'd never seen Rowen like this, vulnerable, exposed. Even during my heat, when passion had stripped away many of his defenses, he'd maintained a core of control, of power.

Hesitantly, I moved closer, settling my hand on his shoulder again. "Rowen?"