Viktor stood behind the tree for one final heartbeat, the violet pulse of his incubus mark thrumming low and steady against his pelvis like a second heartbeat. The woman's horns—small, dark, elegantly curved—caught the moonlight in a way that made the air feel thicker, sweeter, and fully charged. She had no idea she was being watched, still crying softly, still bare, still thick and magnificent in the water. A secret laid bare under the silver light, and he held it now like a blade wrapped in silk.
Through the tree's shade, Viktor was looking toward the woman as he slowly stood. He rolled his broad shoulders once, casual, the motion of a man who had simply stepped out for air and stumbled upon something he was never meant to see. His heavy boots scraped softly over the moss as he walked naturally, as if he had just been handed the secret of the woman and was now deciding what to do with it. The night air moved cool against his half-open shirt.
