The corridors of the Dragon Realm's palace stretched before Samantha like veins of light, each surface reflecting her turbulent emotions in fractured rainbows that seemed to mock her inner turmoil.
Her hybrid senses were hyperaware of everything—the whisper of her footsteps against the polished stone, the distant hum of dragon magic that permeated every surface, the lingering scent of her mates that clung to her clothing.
She needed distance. Space to think without the overwhelming pull of their bond clouding her judgment.
The revelation about Iskra and Callum had hit her like a physical blow, not because he'd had lovers before—she understood that immortals accumulated romantic histories like mortals accumulated scars—but because of what it represented.
The easy dismissal of "complicated" when describing a three-century relationship. The way he'd stood there, frozen between his old life and his new one.
