Varek studies me, probably weighing whether to argue. But then his shoulders ease just slightly. “You’re protective.”
“Damn right.” I lift my chin. “Spent enough years in the club scene seeing people get pressured into shit they didn’t want. Not on my watch.”
There’s a long pause. Then?—
Varek sighs. “You’re right.”
Wait, what?
He gives me a small, approving nod. “I respect your stance. And I appreciate your loyalty to your own kind.”
I blink. “You—are you actually apologising?”
Varek’s mouth twitches. “Don’t push it.”
I smirk. “Noted.”
Then, rubbing the back of my neck, I add, “Look, I’ll talk to Dawson. Get him up to speed. But no pressure, all right?”
He nods. “Agreed.”
I exhale. “Good.” Then I gesture towards the kitchens. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get our rock-wielding survivor some food before he passes out.”
Varek actually huffs a quiet laugh as he steps aside. And with that, I head off, already mentally preparing for how I’m going to support and protect Dawson. I make it about ten steps down the dimly lit hall before I run into a wall.
Not a literal wall. No, that’d be kinder. Instead, I find myself face to face with a Glowranth royal guard. Every part of me goes on high alert.
The moment he sees me, his entire body stiffens, shoulders locking, jaw tensing, like I’ve just personally offended him by existing in his vicinity.
All right, then.
I’m not looking for a fight—hell, I just want to grab food and get back to Dawson before he spirals—but something about the way this guy holds himself pisses me off immediately.
He’s tall. Taller than me by a solid foot, which, fine, a lot of people are. But it’s the way hefeelstall that gets to me. Like the height’s not just genetic luck but something he wields, something he knows makes him untouchable. Like he’s been bred for it, trained for it.
And hehasbeen.
He’s not just any Glowranth. He’s the prince’s personal guard. That means he’s not just strong—he’s dangerous.
And an arsehole, apparently.
He’s talking to Shanae, and she doesn’t seem remotely tense. That throws me. She’s relaxed, her arms loosely crossed, head bobbing slightly as she listens. She even greets me easily.
“How’s the human?” she asks.
Notthe man.The human.
Something about the distinction sticks, so I need to be careful with how I respond.
“Awake,” I say. “Tired and scared, but I don’t think badly injured. Trying to process.”
The Glowranth doesn’t look at me. But he speaks. “Is he ready to see my prince?”
The words are clearly directed at me, but he doesn’t actuallyfaceme when he says them.
Something in my blood heats.
I take my time turning fully to him, dragging my gaze over him in a slow, deliberate sweep. And okay, yes,fuck, he’s beautiful. Not in a delicate way. Not even in a traditional way. It’s that kind of beauty that’s all sharp edges and impossible angles, something cut from stone and meant to intimidate.
