28

Twenty Eight

*Rafe*

I gazed down at Freya's sleeping form, her dark lashes fluttering against porcelain cheeks flushed with the soft pink of slumber. Silky strands of brown hair fanned out across the pillow, framing her delicate features - full rosebud lips, an elegant slope of nose. She looked so innocent, so ethereally beautiful in repose. Like an angel gracing my chambers. I couldn't deny that her beauty was one of the things that attracted to her.

My fists clenched at my sides as I recalled the shock and blinding rage that consumed me when the guard had delivered the devastating news mere hours ago. Freya had been shot by an assassin's poisoned bullet during the grand ball. I saw red. I saw nothing but vengeance.

The moment I found Connor, I had slammed him against the wall, my forearm pinning his throat.

"You were supposed to protect her!" I snarled, baring my canines. "She could have died on your watch!"

Connor sputtered and blanched but I was beyond reason, beyond mercy.