I stayed entirely frozen within his solid hold, my left hand instinctively gripping the broad structure of his bicep to steady myself.
My heart was pounding so violently against my ribs I was certain he could feel it through the layers of his shirt.
Of all the cliché, overused romance webnovel tropes I had ever carved into my late-night rough drafts, the classic "tripping over a random rock into the dark hero's arms" was the one I had brutally mocked the most.
And now, ironies of ironies, my own body was living it out in real-time.
Slowly, deliberately, I opened my eyes, tilting my head back in the silver moonlight to look up into the majestic, unbending form of his, Xander: The Third Prince.
Xander was staring down at me, his sharp features half-shadowed by the night, his dark pupils glinting with a dangerous, predatory clarity that was entirely free of the chaotic madness from last time we met.
