Chapter 6 · The Silver Bolt

"Take your hand off my throat, or I swear I'll cut it off."

Rafe's fingers tightened beneath Vera's jaw.

His other hand braced against the iron table. His knuckles were split, and silver smoke curled from the wound in his side. Another impact hit the outer gates. Dust shook loose from the ceiling and caught in his dark hair.

"You talk too much for a prisoner," he said.

"You breathe too hard for a commander."

Gold flashed across his eyes.

Vera didn't blink. One knife hid in her sleeve. Another lay near his boot. She had exactly zero good options.

The silver bolt under his ribs had turned the room into a cage. His wolf was fighting to get out, and Rafe's control was the only thing keeping his teeth away from her throat.

The gates took another hit.

The iron table jumped. Rafe's grip slipped from her throat and caught her shoulder instead. He bent forward, teeth bared, his breath burning over her cheek.

"Get away from me," he growled.

"Gladly. Hold still."

"I didn't tell you to touch me."

"You didn't have to. You're bleeding silver all over my floor."

"My floor?"

"Your blood. Your room. Your mess.