So Lorcan kissed Elide’s cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. “I love you,” he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist. Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk. “No.” There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel. “No,” she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth. Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.
