47

River sits on a bare rock, eyeing the warlord stalk up and down in a flurry of anger.

His rage is hot enough to roll off him in thick, stinging waves that lick at the bare skin of her legs, which scrape against the rock under her. His skin is sleek with a dancing of blood, like that of the petals of poppies - both Cain’s and his.

The outburst of violence had caught her off-guard and when she had turned, Cain’s neck was embedded with a knife. The injury, although maiming, had not deterred the brother from attacking Hadrius.

In the end, Hadrius had decidedly picked her up from the corner of the room, where she had crouched to prevent being crushed, and tossed her over his shoulder before storming out of the house.

Now she sits on a rock, still in his shirt, watching the Beta pace out his rage.

The air is thin with tension as unspoken words and insults swell on his tongue and flex his jaw. Hadrius rakes a frustrated hand through his hair, only sm