I scolded myself and plucked my gown from the woven and faded crimson carpet. I’d need to mend it. I’d also need to bathe before I left—to soak myself clean of the scent of the male with a name that matched his scarred eye.

Scythe.

But the idea of returning home after what I’d done, after what Rorn had done, hollowed my chest. Acid slowly seeped inside to fill the void he’d so brutally given me.

I stood, unwilling to let it. Not yet. But the memories of what I’d fled from, of all I’d never once expected to break, quaked my knees.

“You’ve ruined it. Ruined me. Ruined it all.”

“You’re being shortsighted. Nothing is ever irreparable, Bloom.”

“We are, Rorn, and you’ve no one but yourself to blame. I don’t want this. Not like this.”

Fury had replaced the fear in his eyes. “You think to leave this life? To leave me?” Rorn had scoffed. “We both know that’s impossible. I’ll give you what time you need, but your promises are as inescapable as I am.”

Before I could utter a retort about his broken promises, he was gone.

Words, I thought, lost to the brittle imagery of Rorn stalking away from me as though he held ownership over who I was and all I could do, were useless.

For the male I’d run from was right. I could tell him that we were no longer and that what he’d done was unforgivable until it robbed me of sanity, but it would mean nothing.

I still, and I always would, belong to him.

With the bedsheet tucked around me, I spread my gown over my lap and did my best to repair the shoulder and the bust. Not exceptionally experienced at mending but determined to at least tap into that part of my mother’s lineage during the lonely winters while growing up, I’d learned to make do.

A tepid warmth gathered in my fingertips, the frayed edges of the torn material crawling and tightening as they rejoined beneath the gentle coaxing of my touch.

My plans to bathe and dress and force myself to leave before Scythe’s return were foiled when the air in the room grew charged. Shadows collected by the dining table, thickening and separating to reveal a tall, incredibly muscular male in a tight black tunic and leather vest.

The wolf could warp.

My heartbeat kicked as I pondered his lineage, and I deduced he likely carried traces of noble blood.

Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. Of course, he did. It wasn’t enough that he could murder with a flick of his claws. The stars had felt the need to give him the ability to be even more deadly.