MAILAH JOLTED AWAKE with a gasp, her heart slamming against her ribs like it was trying to escape her chest. The nightmare clung to her consciousness—Grayson's eyes completely silver, no recognition in them, just hunger and something ancient and terrifying. His hands had been reaching for her, but not in tenderness. In the dream, he'd looked at her the way a predator looks at prey.
"You're a useless guard," Lucson's voice cut through her disorientation. "Completely unreliable. Fell asleep within the hour."
Mailah blinked, trying to orient herself.
The hunting lodge. Right.
The fire had burned down to embers. Morning light filtered through the windows, weak and gray.
And Lucson stood at the kitchen counter doing something that looked suspiciously like... cooking?
"What time is it?" Her voice came out rough, throat dry.
