The corridor to the council chamber was too long. Too quiet. Too polished for a man whose mind was an absolute mess.
Rhane's boots echoed softly against the marble floor, but the pounding in his chest drowned out every other sound. It wasn't the council that made his pulse riot. No, those crusted bastards couldn't stir fear in him if they tried.
It was her.
Jenna. Delicate as a damned porcelain sword, fragile and sharp in equal measures.
He could still see her standing there, lips parted just slightly, like they were remembering the taste of something forbidden. Her nose had flared when she'd snapped at him, and gods, he'd never wanted to kiss someone mid-argument so badly in his life.
And it wasn't going to be pleasing, he wanted to wrap his palm around her small neck and press on her with his weight.
