I stood in the center of the training courtyard, the morning air biting at my skin. For the last hour, I had been alone. The silence was unnerving; I had grown used to Caleb's easy jokes and Elias's quiet, steadying presence. Without them, the massive stone walls of the Shadow-Crest estate seemed to lean in, watching me.
Then, the heavy iron-bound doors creaked open.
Silas didn't walk out; he prowled. He had shed his formal charcoal coat, wearing only a black compression shirt that clung to the ridged muscles of his torso. The raw power he usually kept buttoned up was on full display—a shimmering, predatory heat that made the very air vibrate. My wolf pace-circled in my mind, her fur bristling. She wasn't afraid. She was waiting.
"Caleb and Elias are reassigned to the perimeter," Silas said, his voice a low vibration that seemed to travel through the stone floor and into the soles of my feet. He stopped ten feet away, his gold-rimmed eyes tracking the movement of my pulse. "They are too soft with you. They see what you were. I am only interested in what you are becoming."
"They weren't soft," I countered, my voice sounding small in the vast space. "They were patient."
"Patience is a luxury for those who aren't being hunted," Silas snapped. He moved closer, his shadow stretching out to swallow mine. "In three days, you will walk into the den of the man who broke you. If you go there with 'patience,' he will kill you. You need teeth, Seraphina. Not just ones you grow when you're scared."
"I told you, I don't know how to control it!" I cried out, my frustration bubbling over. "It just happens! It's like a flood—"
"Then build a dam," he growled. He lunged forward with terrifying speed, his hand snapping out to catch my throat. He didn't squeeze, but the pressure was there—a cold, firm reminder of how easily he could end me. "Call it up. Now. Command the wolf, or she will spend the rest of her life as Julian's lapdog."
The mention of Julian's name was like a brand to my soul. The memory of the cellar, the smell of stale ale, the feeling of being "nothing" rushed back.
"Stop it," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Call it, Seraphina," Silas urged, his face inches from mine. His scent—cedar, cold rain, and something dark and spicy—was overwhelming me, clouding my judgment. "Strike me. Make me move."
"I can't!"
"You won't," he corrected, his grip on my neck tightening just a fraction. "You're still acting like a victim. You're waiting for permission to exist. I'm not giving you permission. I'm giving you a fight."
He shoved me back. I stumbled, my boots skidding on the frost-slicked grass. Before I could find my footing, he was on me again, a blur of midnight and gold. He swung a mock blow at my ribs, his hand stopping just short of the bone.
"Again," he barked. "Defend yourself!"
I swung at him, a wild, human punch that he caught effortlessly. He twisted my arm behind my back, pinning me against his chest. The heat of him was staggering.
"Is this it?" he hissed into my ear. "The great 'fluke' of the Shadow-Crest? A girl who can't even grow a claw when her life depends on it?"
"Kill him," my wolf snarled. The sound wasn't in my head anymore—it was in my throat.
A white-hot surge of power erupted from the base of my spine. It felt like my blood had turned to molten silver. The obsidian claws didn't just slide out this time; they punched through my skin with a violent, rhythmic thud-thud-thud.
The air in the courtyard fractured. A wave of silver-black energy rolled off me, so dense it looked like smoke. It hit Silas like a physical weight, but instead of pulling away, he gripped me tighter, his own aura rising in a golden wall of flame.
The pressure was agonizing. We were two storms locked in a dead heat.
"That's it," he rasped, his voice thick with a dark, terrifying pride. "Give it to me, Seraphina. All of it."
I spun in his arms, the movement aided by a speed I didn't recognize as mine. My hand flashed out—a desperate, clawed strike. I didn't mean to connect. I just wanted him off me.
The sound of silk tearing was followed by a sharp, wet hiss.
I froze. Silas stood perfectly still. Three deep, jagged lines ran diagonally across his chest, shredding his black shirt. Dark, thick blood began to well up from the wounds, staining the fabric and dripping onto the grass.
I gasped, the silver-black smoke around me dissipating instantly. My claws retracted, leaving my fingertips raw and stinging. "Silas... oh gods, I'm sorry. I didn't—I didn't mean to—"
I reached out, my hands trembling, wanting to touch the wounds, to stop the bleeding. "I hurt you. I'm so sorry."
Silas didn't move. He looked down at the blood on his chest, then back at me. His eyes weren't angry. They were terrifyingly, brilliantly gold. The raw, predatory hunger I had seen at my bedroom door was back, but now it was amplified a hundredfold by the scent of his own blood and my power.
"You drew blood," he whispered. It wasn't a reproach. It was a worshipful observation.
He stepped toward me. I backed up until I hit the stone wall of the courtyard. He didn't stop. He slammed his hands onto the stone on either side of my head, pinning me. The scent of his blood was metallic and sweet, mixing with the electric charge in the air.
"Do you have any idea," he growled, his voice dropping to a register so low it was almost a purr, "what you just did to me?"
"I... I hurt you," I whispered, my eyes fixed on the red lines on his chest.
"You claimed me," he corrected, leaning in until his nose brushed against mine. He was shaking—a fine, violent tremor that spoke of a man at the absolute end of his tether. "You struck your Alpha and made him bleed. And all I want to do right now is ruin you for any other man who ever thinks to look at you."
He leaned down, his lips a ghost's breath away from mine. I could feel the heat of his skin, the jagged edges of his breath. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted it with a primal, soul-deep ache that terrified me more than Julian ever had.
His gaze dropped to my mouth, his pupils blown wide. The bond between us snapped taut, a physical cord of energy that made my heart stutter.
Then, with a guttural groan of pure agony, Silas tore himself away. He smashed his fist into the stone wall beside my head, the rock cracking under his strength.
"Go," he rasped, his back to me, his shoulders heaving. "Go inside, Seraphina. Now."
"Silas—"
"GO!" he roared, the sound echoing off the mountains.
I turned and fled, my heart racing, my skin still humming from the touch of his aura. I didn't look back. If I had, I would have seen him drop to his knees in the grass, his hands buried in the earth, fighting the urge to chase me down and never let me go.