VARULWeak. Coward. Chivalrous, pathetic fool.Siren’s voice tore at the base of my skull, a low, grinding friction that tasted of iron and ancient, thwarted fury. Within the dark space of my mind, the beast did not merely pace; he threw his massive weight against the bars of my restraint, his jaws snapping close enough to make my own teeth ache.“Silence,” I commanded internally, my bare feet biting the freezing stone of the corridor with heavy, measured steps.I will not be silent! We left her, Varul. Again! Her scent still hangs heavy on our skin—the sweet taste of her arousal is a hot brand on our tongue, and you turned your back. For what? To play the saint?“I am keeping her whole,” I fired back, my thoughts a rigid shield against his rage. “If we force the bond now, we might break her. I stand by what I said; I will not rule her by ruin.”Gods, you self-righteous coward. I remember your first excuse on the road from Windsmoor. ‘Oh, Siren, she is a sheltered Southern princess, I
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