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Her legs trembled at the sound, like cold, bitter, endless death.

And she found herself wanting to be wrapped in it.

Their faces hardened as the Raven who once tightened his grip around her neck whipped his gaze over his shoulder. “This is none of your business.”

Every shard of light behind them had muddled to nothing but a memory, leaving the hallway as dark as the night as the voice ofpromiseddeath—the voice of a beast damned to the depths of the darkest abyss—spoke again. “You made it my business the moment you so much as thought about touching her. She ismine.”

Something cracked, shifted, rumbled.

She felt the mist before she realized what had happened.

Blood sprayed her face and dripped into her leathers. The taste so strong it sent bile burning her throat.

Through the darkness … somehow, she knew … somehow, she could see.

Four males were gone.

Just …gone.

Misted into bone dust and blood and shadow in the air.

And when her eyes lifted, adjusting to the darkness, the form of the Savage Prince parted those shadows, the white glow of the tavern a radiance of firelight outlining him.

The male in front of her wrenched his sword from beside him, twisting away from the beast who prowled, the beast with pure, primal, predatory eyes and malicious hunger. Wholly ravenous. A monster to everyone in Elysian—but her.

The male dove for her. Metal careened through the air.

But shadow moved without fatigue or fae limitation.

Transforming into a cold, frigid body inches in front of her, Garrik threw her behind him so fast she didn’t have time to brace for the impact of the wall.

But she didn’t need to. Pillowed by whorling shadows, her body didn’t feel the wooden boards against her as the Raven’s sword barely missed her and barreled toward Garrik instead.

She thought she heard someone cry out, a grunt of pain.

Then, with a thundering roar, the gleam of Garrik’s incredible blade cleaved through the air…

And embedded into the male’s face.

Alora watchedthe whorls of shadows. They receded down the hallway as a warm, white glow spilled out from the tavern, illuminating the once dark passage. The fire inside, ablaze with radiant light, now chased away the darkness that had previously consumed the corridor. In the very same spot, he had ripped the Ravens who were attacking her from time itself.

Garrik’s shoulders rose and fell with heavy tension. She listened to his uneven breaths as he towered over the body in the hallway. She was tempted to step back, run through the door, and vanish into the night within the town.

But he had brought her there on Smokeshadow wings. Returning to camp wouldn’t be easy, if even possible. Sheneededhim.

Then his voice, like endless death, scratched like a beast’s claws down the bloodstained walls. “What were you thinking?”

It was enough of a chilling threat to have her draw back a step for fear of becoming his next victim. He wasn’t himself when he was angry—he’d told her as much once before—and the blackness in his eyes reminded her of that. Even if he wanted to stop himself, she wasn’t sure he could.

Garrik’s cold gaze peered over his shoulder, finding her hesitation. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction … wouldn’t tell him about Kaine constantly haunting her. Not here. Not ever.

Alora’s fists balled, ready for another fight.

“Are you out of your starsdamned mind?”

“Oh yes, because we can’t all be like you, oh-so-great-and-mighty-prince.” The deliciousness of her venom settled sweetly against her tongue. She was fully aware that she had reduced his title, proudly grinning at the fact. He deserved it, after all.

Turning to walk away, an icy hand caged around her forearm, and Alora found herself unwillingly within inches from his face, so close, they almost shared breath.