ALARIC POV
Her throat fit perfectly in my hand.
For a long second I simply held her there, suspended a few inches off the ground, my fingers tightening slowly around the column of her neck while her feet kicked uselessly against the forest floor, scraping against leaves and dirt in a pathetic attempt to find purchase that simply wasn’t there.
Drake was howling inside my skull.
‘Tear her open.’
‘Make her bleed until she speaks’.
The urge was strong. Every last shred of me needed violence, needed blood, needed a life for another one. A deep animal instinct clawing its way up from somewhere old and feral inside my chest, demanding blood and bones and the satisfaction of ending the life of the woman who had dared touch what was mine.
But killing her now would give me nothing.
And right
