MALAKAI

I stood in the center of the room, the stones beneath my bare feet cold, though I could no longer feel them. My shirt lay discarded in a crumpled heap near the hearth, leaving my torso exposed to the biting draft.

I didn't care about the cold. I didn't care about anything else except the urge caused by the mate bond to dash over to Clarabel's room and claim her.

I gripped the handle of the whip, the leather worn supple by years of use, and drew a ragged breath. With a rigid precision, I whipped the lash over my shoulder.

Crack.

The sound was a gunshot in the...