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The High Prince’s lip curled, baring his teeth. “You think after training for a few months that you are ready to challenge the High King’s elite?” He breathed a dark laugh against her cheek. “If you wanted to flaunt your new …skills, choosing Ravens as your first opponents was utterly foolish. Do not provoke fights with those you are not evenly matched with. Especially those wanting to take you for your magic. Have you learnednothing?” he roared the last word. “Have I failed so extraordinarily in your teachings?”

Alora ripped her forearm from his hold and shoved her palms into his chest with a heated fury.

He remained a stone wall against a tidal wave.

“I did nothing.”Bastard. “They dragged me in here. I was protecting myself!”

“After you lit the tavern on fire,” he snarled through his teeth.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”Don’t have to tell you why my flames exploded … who I was trying to defeat …

Alora wanted to heave her fist through his face. She nearly did it, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that, in this state, he could kill her with little effort—most likely none at all. One breath and she would be gone. And he’d probably relish it, too. After all, he had taken great pleasure in ripping the males apart.

Garrik’s chest vibrated in a low, continuous growl as he prowled a step forward.

His power—rippling like a solid barrier—slammed against her.

She stumbled back, pressing against a blood-splattered wall, trapped, with nowhere to go.

Stepping again, Garrik’s eyes speared her to that spot, flattening his palms on either side of her head as he leaned over her. Imprisoning her in the walls of his arms, leaving no means of evasion or escape.

Alora’s heart thundered against its cage, desperately attempting to conceal her trembling fists. She wanted to flee or fight—or scream. But in fear of his predatory nature, the choice was removed, robbed from her consciousness by a primal instinct not to offer him the chance to give chase.

For several beats, he remained there. Chest heaving in heavy breaths. Until the slow rake of his darkened abyss burned ice shards into hers. His mouth hovered entirely too close, growling like a night besieged by a deadly storm.

“I am going to say this only once.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. His eyes reflected her enraged expression, like polished glass. “I would take no pleasure in your death. I believe I have made that perfectly clear. But make no mistake, clever girl, this is no fairytale. Do not expect me to be a hero. I am the villain, and you won’t like who I wasmadeto be.

“I do not care. Elysian will not be compromised by foolish action. If you continue to do stupid shit like this, then this blood will not only be on my hands, but yours too. I will not allow anyone to touch you.

“Or have you forgotten my promise so soon? Decide right now if you cannot handle this, because if not, walk away. Find some pathetic coward’s life, which you so desperately wish for.”

His words … they turned her blood molten, as hot as the embers igniting in her eyes.

Without thinking, without breathing, she barely saw through the red swirling her vision. Barely felt her palm barreling toward the High Prince’s infuriating and smug and irritating face.

In a cloak of shadows, one of his hands effortlessly caught her act of treason. Caging her hand before it collided with his icy cheek, Garrik’s lip curled. That blackened oblivion in his eyes grew darker—impossibly void of anything.

“Try that again,” he dared.

Garrik leaned in so close she could see his pulse erratically beating under the scar of his neck. The scar she had so longingly trailed fingertips over only tonight was now a target she wished to pierce with her dagger.

His hold on her hand felt brutal yet controlled; the tender violence in his seizing caused her to pause and examine him closely.

And she must have possessed some kind of death wish. Because, as his eyes met hers and promised the very same, Alora dared to raise her other palm and slap him.

Sapphire eyes widened; she hadn’t expected to land the blow. Not on him. Not on the Lord of Minds.

Mere seconds after the sting burst through her fingers and down her arm, the Savage Prince stole that one too.

He raised both above her head, pinning her to the wall with the chill of his skin. Hands curving around palms like shackles made of ice. His chest heaved, lips quivering as if he were about to erupt in a fit of temper that she knew too well from Kaine.

And perhaps it was cowardly to do so, but Alora slammed her eyes shut, whipped her cheek against the cold wood, and drew her shoulders up tight. Each cluster of nerve endings primed themselves, anticipating the incoming blow, fortifying against the pain.

Her body fell cold despite its permanent heat. As cold as the ice running through his veins.

But nothing came.

Garrik only held her there. Teeth gritted as his inked eyes surveyed her panicked body.