37

~Meara

Carran's panic sets in immediately.

He sends a few guards off to search the home, but that only makes him more vulnerable. Sure enough, only moments later the last guard sets off, Sire stalks through the door, closing it firmly behind him.

Carran immediately scrambles back, rounding the desk as if it could do anything to protect him from his imminent death.

"You don't want to kill me," he hisses.

Sire glances to the side, to where I lean against the wall, cradling my bleeding wound. Something dark and lethal flicks across his eyes before he drags them back to Carran.

"Actually, I think I do," he says lowly.

Despite being the picture of death, he looks awfully casual. His hands are seated in his pockets, and there is not a single weapon in sight.

"My witches have very specific instructions if you do," Carran spits out, trying to hide his obvious fear behind a wall of venom. "Far more terrible things await you, Sire, if you kill me."

"You hurt my mate."

"She can be healed." Carra