Marcus moved closer to Celia and Lucas saw the fear shining bright in her eyes as she shrank against the cold stone wall. He surged forward again against the shackles, ignoring the rush of wolfsbane burning through his veins like hot needles. The poison didn’t burn as strong or as long as the day before, but he couldn’t tell if it was a smaller dose or if fear and adrenaline were simply drowning everything else out. All he knew was that his father was walking toward his mate, and he couldn’t reach her.
“Marcus,” Ophelia whimpered. Her gaze darted between Lucas and Celia, wild with panic. “Marcus, please, don’t.”
Marcus didn’t turn. He advanced on Celia with the slow satisfaction of a predator, looming over her with a smile that never reached his eyes.
“Hello, little stray,” he murmured.
