The air in the shattered restaurant seemed to quiver as Max, scales still glinting gold and black over his skin, strode out of the debris and stared straight at June, whose elegant green robes and delicate face belied the sharp frost glinting in her eyes as she flicked a dismissive glance at him and tilted her chin ever so slightly, voice dripping with cold disdain.
"You're still alive?" she said, as though his survival were some vile inconvenience rather than a miracle, and Max's own face twisted with suppressed fury, his jaw clenched tight as he shot back, voice low and trembling with rage, "I want to ask why Miss June attacked me."
He could still feel the searing pain of her blow, and it burned hotter than any wound that this woman, beautiful as a star yet cruel as an executioner, had tried to end him without a shred of hesitation, her fist strike carrying lethal force that would have pulverized his insides if not for the protection of his draconic scales.
