Samuel set her down gently on the velvet fainting couch, completely ignoring the freezing winter wind howling through the massive hole in the roof. His golden eyes were entirely dark, burning with a quiet, possessive intensity that made the air between them feel suffocatingly heavy.
Heena leaned back against the plush cushions, looking up at the towering scholar. The cold, calculating Vanguard Madam who had just commanded an execution squad was gone. In her place was a quiet, fierce anticipation.
He reached out, his knuckles lightly grazing the side of her neck, tracking the rapid flutter of her pulse. His touch was agonizingly slow, a stark contrast to the ruthless man who had hurled her ex-fiancé out of a window just moments prior.
"You are entirely too calm for a woman whose wedding night was just crashed by an assassin," Samuel murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rough rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.
