Lunessa's POV “Azrik?” I gasped, my voice barely a whisper over the rain.That roar wasn’t ordinary. It had depth, ancient, commanding, powerful beyond measure.I braced myself for a battle, bloody and brutal, but there was none. The assassins vanished just like that.I blinked in disbelief. The scentless killers were infamous for one thing: once they locked on their target, they never left. It was tradition, a law and obsession. And yet, they fled.Azrik stepped into the broken doorway like a storm cloaked in skin. His eyes glowed a fierce coal-red, radiating heat and danger. His presence swallowed the space, made the broken cottage feel smaller.Without a word, he removed his long black coat and wrapped it around me. The warmth of it, and the scent of him, earth, masculine, power, stunned me more than the silence. Then he knelt before me, one knee to the ground.“I’m sorry, Lunessa,” he said, his voice low and raw. “I’m so sorry.”I stared at him, heart thundering. I didn’t want an
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