The metallic taste struck. Jasmine's tongue an instant before the agony. Blood. Herself.

The sting burned on her cheek, but it was the slap’s reverberation—sharp, booming like thunder—that captured everyone's attention in the Lycan King’s majestic hall. Not Xavier. Jeanne.

"You won't talk to him that way,” Jeanne hissed, her voice trembling with fury. Her chest lifted and dropped like a predator poised to attack once more. "You neglect your position."

Jasmine brushed the edge of her lips, her hand shaking.

The marble floor under her was frigid and uninviting, yet far less severe than the silence that ensued. Xavier remained still.

He perched upon his throne like a statue...