"THEY'RE STILL YOUR EYES," she said softly, though they both knew that wasn't entirely true anymore.
"Are they?" Grayson asked, and for the first time since she'd known him, he sounded truly uncertain about the answer.
The blue-gray swirl in his eyes seemed to shift even as she watched, like storm clouds gathering on a distant horizon.
The change was subtle but undeniable—a visible manifestation of the supernatural awakening that had begun to reshape him from the inside out.
Mailah woke to sunlight streaming through tall windows and the disorienting realization that she was alone.
The chair by the window where Grayson had settled the night before was empty, the silk cushion still bearing the faint impression of his form.
She sat up slowly, her body protesting the movement with a bone-deep exhaustion that reminded her vividly of the previous night's feeding.
