"VARROW?" Grayson's voice was a low growl, more vibration than sound.
Lucien didn't answer at once. His eyes flicked toward the garden, where the mist had thickened into lazy ribbons curling around the hedges. "If it was," he said finally, "then he's testing your patience before your defenses."
"I don't like tests," Grayson muttered.
"You never did," Lucien said lightly, the corners of his mouth curving. "Which is ironic, considering your entire existence is one."
Grayson shot him a glare that could have scorched marble, but Lucien only raised a brow, unbothered. "Relax, demon. Your little human is safe."
"She's not mine," Grayson said automatically, though the words felt false the moment they left his mouth.
Lucien's smile deepened, cruel and knowing. "No?" He tilted his head, a faint shimmer of silver feathers ghosting into sight before vanishing again. "Then why does your aura react every time she says your name?"
Grayson didn't dignify that with an answer.
