He towered over me, six solid feet of magic and muscle – a stark, elegant shadow against the colourful cacophony of Lyn’s wardrobe, and yet his eyes were darker still. They held my gaze with that unnerving mixture of shock and anguish, some emotion that was vulnerable before it was anything else – as if a single word more from my lips might shatter him. As if my questions had already broken something deep within, snapped him like a thread of delicate silk, and left him bleeding out behind that devastating façade.
