CHAPTER 51
Elena tasted blood at the back of her throat and hated herself for the weakness of it. The psychic feedback from the bond's severance had torn through her like a serrated blade dragged across her mind, ripping, shredding.
The scream she had loosed still echoed inside her skull, ricocheting endlessly, mocking her with every pulse of pain that followed.
When she lifted her hollow, eyeless gaze toward the vampire standing before her, she tried—foolishly—to hide the fear clawing up her spine.
It was like trying to smother a wildfire in the middle of a drought. Useless. Obvious. Humiliating. And Elena despised humiliation more than pain.
The air around him felt wrong. Heavy. Pressurized. It bent inward, compressing the space between breaths until each inhale felt stolen rather than given. The room itself seemed to bow under his presence.
This wasn't just the raw strength of a King.
