Chapter 452

• “Three years ago?” Malix says, his tone low and angry.
• He hovers on the other side of the bed, framed by the fading sunlight streaming through the gauzy curtains. Frost stands behind him a few feet away, still near his chair at the table and also highlighted by the light. They both look eerily beautiful… and deadly. Frost as pale and unearthly as an iceberg in the fading twilight, and Malix as darkly magnificent as a mountain at sunset.
• The sight of them, and the tingle of their fury on the air, quickens my breath and makes my heart race. There’s a kind of savageness hanging between us that reminds me of the wilds, of the hunt, the chase, the kill.