Philli

us in a tableau of silent horror. The music had died. The chatter had ceased. Every eye in the roo

ept my gaze locked on Jaxon's, searching the deep, turbulent blue of his eyes fo

d sob. Her body trembled like a leaf in a storm

wer my question. He didn't even look at me. Instead, he

with his broad chest, his hand coming up to soothe the space between her shoulder blades in a gesture

my face, harder and more humiliatin

ple through the crowd of guests. The sound was like a sw

u she was

l, she looks

m Jaxon, handli

calpel, methodically carving

suit, Jaxon finally turned his head back to me. The warmth that I had once found in his eyes, the fire

ous, a predator's growl that carried acros

ngth draining from my legs. It felt as if

ice a raw, broken thing. "I'm telli

might look at a child throwing a tantrum. "Krystal is shaken. She needs to rest. And yo

dges of the crowd, two men in black suits materialized. They moved with a

knew what this meant.

ce trembled, the last of my

final, leaving no room for argument. "The doc

throat, raw with desperation. I looked at him, pleadin

cle of his arms, Krystal lifted her head just enough to meet my gaze. A slow,

tood. This wasn't a misunders

olute. There was no point in fighting. I went limp, all the struggle

ould spend my life with, looked back a

y chest flickered and died, lea

le floor, a shrill, protesting sound that echoed in the dead silence. The guests pa

ent-sandalwood and power-filling my senses for the last time. His lips br

top makin