The cool night air bit at Sebastian's skin as he stumbled toward his car, the world tilting and blurring into a kaleidoscope of neon and shadow. He reached for the door handle, but his knees buckled. Before he could hit the gravel, a pair of strong, slender arms caught him.
"Easy there, Sebastian," a voice whispered.
It was Amara's voice. The same honeyed tone, the same lilt, but it was laced with something sharper, something dangerous.
"Amara?" he slurred, looking up through bloodshot eyes. He saw the face he loved, the high cheekbones and soft lips, but the eyes were different. They weren't filled with the warmth and grace of his wife; they were dark, predatory, and swirling with a complex hunger.
It was Amira.
