Elara POV
The door creaked open just enough for a sliver of light to slice across the floor.
Theron reacted first.
Not with panic.
With stillness.
His entire body froze above mine, muscles locked, breath halted, every inch of him turning into cold, perfect restraint. One second earlier he had been fire over me—warm, hungry, too close.
Now he was stone.
His arm stayed braced beside my head. His weight held itself off me by a hair. Only his breath—still shaky, still warm—gave away what we had almost done.
My heart hammered so hard I thought whoever stood at the door could hear it.
The door opened wider.
A silhouette filled the doorway.
Not Mira.
Not a vampire guard.
Not a servant.
It was Lyr, Theron's second-in-command.
His eyes fell on us instantly.
And everything in his face—shock, betrayal, disbelief—happened in one breath before he slammed his expression back behind a soldier's mask.
"My king," he said, voice too flat to be natural. "Forgive the intrusion."
