The scent of iron and jasmine clung to the night as Sage stepped across the threshold of the Obsidian Spire, her boots silent on black marble. The vampire council’s gala glittered with blood-red wine and fangs behind smiles, but her eyes were on him: Kaelen Dain, Alpha-King, clad in shadow-woven armor, his silver wolf-mark pulsing at his throat like a second heartbeat. She had memorized his face from the execution decree. She had dreamed of gutting him.