SELIN'S POV.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him.
Those eyes…cold, haunted, the kind that looked like they'd seen centuries of death.
And his voice, low and rough, saying words that wouldn't stop echoing in my head.
Because touching you could kill you.
I pulled the blanket tighter around me, but it didn't stop the chill. The fire had burned out hours ago, yet the air still carried the faintest trace of him, the smoke, the iron, something wild and ancient that didn't belong to any human man.
I knew his name now. Draven.
It suited him. Sharp, dangerous, too heavy to say out loud more than once.
He'd told me just enough to make me terrified but not enough to make me understand. What was he?
What kind of man—or creature, feared his own touch?
And if it was true…if one touch from him really could kill me, then how was I still alive?
