Kael Donovan's. The room was dim, lit mostly by candlelight and the soft flicker of gold chandeliers overhead. Shadows curled around the corners like secrets waiting to be whispered. He sat at the o

s where you're wrong. You ran straight into my world." Zaya's grip on the silverware tightened. Her palms itched with the urge to throw the wine in his face, to scream and demand to be taken seriously-but what would that solve? Nothing. Kael thrived on reactions. Control was his oxygen. She forced her voice to steady. "You want me here to punish me for something I didn't do?" "I want you here," Kael said smoothly, "because you interest me." She blinked. "Excuse me?" He rose from his chair and walked toward her slowly. Each step deliberate. Powerful. The click of his shoes on marble echoed like a countdown. She stood, backing up in