Rand’s thin lips press into a straight line and he returns his gaze toward the stage. A look akin to the hunger I feel inside shows in the tension around his eyes. I stare daggers at the side of his head. If he knew what was hanging in the vaults below the stage, it’d wipe that dazzled look right off of his face. Scarlett Day is mine. One of his own men had to learn that the hard way.
