Her eyes went wide as he sat down and pushed the cup toward her. “Thank you.”
You’re holding her and whisper something in her ear.
“Uh, are you okay?” Her soft voice knocked him out of his daze, and he stared down at her. She was so lovely it made him ache. Softly rounded cheeks, delicate brows, sweeping lashes, and a straight, pert nose. The only imperfection marring her face was a mole under the right side of her mouth, but that only seemed to add character to her face.
“You have interesting eyes, you know,” she began.
“I do?”
“Mm-hmm.” A dreamy expression crossed her face. “I’m trying to figure out what colors I’d use to get them just right. I think turquoise … no azure, with a touch of emerald. I’d have to try a couple of times to get the shade just right. And—” Her hand went to her mouth. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I? I always do that when I’m nervous … er, you know, you uh, you don’t have to sit here with me … I mean, unless you want to.” A blush swept across her cheeks. “You’re more than welcome to, ah …”
“Cross.” He sat down on the empty chair in front of her. “My name’s Cross. And you are?”
She’s there because of you.
“Sabrina.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Cross.”
She’s yours.
Taking her offered hand, he squeezed it firmly. He ignored the frisson of electricity racing up his arm because he could only focus on one thing.
On her ring finger was a silver band with a stone in the middle the color of blood.
Everyone dies.
Chapter One
Present time …
Shouldn’t have come here. This is wrong. A mistake. The words repeated in Cross’s head over and over again. Words he’d been telling himself for nearly three years now, but still, he couldn’t resist the pull. Couldn’t resist her. And so, he went.
It was early yet, and the sky was still in that stage between blue, pink, and yellow, the sun peeking out from between the high rises. She was a heavy sleeper, so she didn’t notice him when he appeared by her bedside.
Each time, he told himself it would only be a few seconds, a minute, tops. But each time he ended up staying longer. Just watching her usually. But today, the ache was so bad. He had to touch her, so he bent down and placed his palms over hers, lightly brushing his hands over her delicate skin. Feeling bold, he threaded his fingers through hers. This would have to be enough for now, to stave off that deep loneliness in his very soul.
She was like an addiction; one he just couldn’t break. God that scent. It was etched into his brain so deep, he could live to a million years old and he’d never forget it. Even now, it lingered on him, calming him and his wolf. It was the only time the animal seemed content.
He stared down at their linked fingers, anger bubbling up as that damned thing wrapped around her ring finger mocked him. Taunted him. Reminding him of why he couldn’t be here.
A soft moan made him start, and he let go, quickly backing away from the bed. But he couldn’t leave yet. His heartbeat picked up as he waited. Maybe just one more second but … no! He shouldn’t have touched her hand. As her lashes began to flutter, he shut his eyes tight and transported himself to the building across the street where he had a clear vantage point of the large loft apartment. What he’d give to be able to look into those eyes again …
She stretched, rolled over, and sat up, looking around her. With a shake of her head, she rose from the bed and made her way to the bathroom. He watched her through the large windows of the loft studio, going about her morning routine. Coffee. Toast. News on the TV, which she never really paid attention to, because all she needed was the noise. Then to her studio, where she would sit and paint and—
Shit. How long had he been there? The sun was already high in the sky. What time was it? He was late. With one last glance across the street, he closed his eyes and thought of the place where he should have been ten minutes ago.
“Apologies for the delay.”
Grant—no, he corrected himself—Lucas Anderson’s office was more crowded than usual. The new Alpha had asked him to come back for a meeting because they had some special guests. According to his father, Marc Delacroix had reunited with his long-lost family. They had always known he was a hybrid of some sort, seeing as he had the power to disappear in the shadows, but it turned out he was a member of a coven of witches and warlocks that they had never even heard of before.
“I had some business to attend to.” He strode toward the middle of the room. “Primul,” he said to Lucas. “I have—”
A high-pitched shriek cut him off. “You too!”
A girl—no, a teenager—with dark eyes looked him up and down before fixing her gaze on his hands.
“What’s wrong?” someone said.
The young woman cocked her head as she moved two steps toward him. “He’s … he’s …” There was power emanating from her, something with a dark tinge to it, similar to what he’d felt when he met Delacroix. “You’ve touched something bad,” she said accusingly.
“No, only I have touched the dagger.” It was his father who spoke.
“But his hands,” the girl cried. “His hands.” Those dark eyes were magnetic and he couldn’t turn away. “You’ve touched it too and …” She frowned. “What’s wrong with your glow?”
Glow?
“She’s right.” He managed to pull his gaze away from the girl, toward another unfamiliar figure in the room—an old woman with long white flowing hair, whose dark eyes had turned to him. “You’ve touched something
