Roman's ears rang with a sharp, piercing sound, the kind that comes just before a storm. His heart thundered like a drum, rage roaring through his veins with terrifying speed. The moment Jorell uttered the word "mate"—his mate—something primal and ancient uncoiled inside Roman. But before he responded, he did one last thing.
He lowered Tessy.
With infinite care, he bent to the ground and cradled her head in his palm, guiding her body down with a gentleness that defied the wrath simmering beneath his skin. He laid her carefully on the grass-covered marble floor of the palace courtyard, brushing her hair away from her face.
Her skin was pale. Her lips slightly parted. But she was breathing.
Still, it wasn't enough.
Roman rose like a shadow rising over the world, then he lunged without any form of warning.
