Amber.
“Zeden…?” I whispered.
I couldn’t see his face clearly, the hallway lights too dim, the angle wrong—but his scent gave him away instantly. Cold, familiar, unmistakable. Panic surged through me and I tried to wrench myself free, twisting my wrist in his grip.
It was useless.
“What are you doing?” I hissed in a low voice. “Let me go. Now. This minute.”
I didn’t dare raise my voice. I knew better. Even if someone woke, even if someone heard—once they realized it was Zeden, they would turn their faces away and pretend blindness. He was the Don. His actions didn’t require witnesses. Or permission.
“Quiet,” he muttered suddenly.
In one swift motion, he twisted me around, pressing me back against one of the stone pillars. My spine hit his chest, hard, his body caging me in. His hand
