Kaebl looks down at where her hands rest on his skin, the shadows retreating as a flash of yellow crosses his wide-eyed gaze. The rage rolling from his skin dissipates into the surrounding air as a blanket of calm falls over his expression, softening the creases at the corners of his eyes and the downward curve of his mouth.

He blinks, stepping back and allowing Dagny’s hands to fall back to her sides—but I don’t miss the way his mouth twitches in despair at the loss of contact. I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself lately. I’m not sure why I…

“It’s okay.” Dagny frowns, debating whether she should try to comfort him. “I think we’ve all been a little on edge.”

“Exactly! Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Cyprien pipes up, a massive grin spreading across his face. “We’re used to you being a grumpy asshole. I personally have grown to find it endearing.”

Lir cuts him a glare, clearing his throat loudly. “What Cyprien means is that we understand the outburst, and it’s forgiven. Right, Malice?”

Malice’s breath billows out in a thick cloud of vapor, his fist clenching at his side. “Sure, Lir. I absolutely understand that Kaebl is acting like a petulant child, and I forgive him for lacking the emotional maturity to express it in a healthy manner.” He smirks. “Is that good for you?”

Seeing the bloodthirsty gleam in Lir’s eyes, Roark steps between him and Malice, his arms stretched out to the side and expression set in stone. “That’s quite enough.”

Malice shrugs. “I was merely doing what Lir asked.”

“You were antagonizing him.”

He stares unblinking into Roark’s purple eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Perhaps I’m a little on edge, too.”

Roark huffs, his eyes trailing to the ceiling. “That’s it. Everyone go to the sleeping chamber—now.”

Cyprien’s mouth pops open in disbelief. “Are you sending us to bed?”

“Yes. Now go,” Roark orders. “If I hear any backtalk, I will make it impossible for you to speak for the rest of the night.”

With a sigh, Dagny leads the way, the rest of us following like lost puppies as Roark takes up the rear, clearly not trusting any of us to behave. As soon as we make it into the bedroom, Roark points a clawed finger toward the bed of furs, the scowl on his face leaving no room for argument. “Take a seat.”