You gripped the delicate stem of your wineglass hard enough that the crystal threatened to shatter beneath your fingers.

Across the room, Nyx stood with a tall, blonde haired female draped in laughter and lingering glances—just as he had been for the past thirty minutes.

At first, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was being polite, too courteous to cut the conversation short. But now? Now it looked like he was enjoying himself. Like her presence wasn’t a nuisance, but a welcome distraction.

Jealousy curled hot and sharp in your stomach. You drank the rest of your wine, placed the empty glass on a nearby table with a decisive clink, and strode toward them with purpose.

Slipping your arm through Nyx’s, you leaned into his side, wearing a smile as sweet as poisoned honey.

“What are we talking about?” you asked, voice light, eyes anything but.

Nyx’s voice brushed across your mind through the bond, all shadows and amusement.

“Jealous, my love?”