Page 22 of When Roses Burn

He’d shorn his hair short so that thick black stubble covered his head. Shorter black stubble lined a square jaw with a small cleft in his chin. Something about that cleft tickled my memory, but I’d never seen him before.

There was something sinister and dangerous about his features, yet also elegant and refined. The strange combination was both electrifying and terrifying.

Across the upper half of his bare chest, a black tattoo ran across his shoulders and down his arms before ending at his fingertips. A burn marred his left shoulder; healing, pink skin tinged the edges of his crispy flesh.

The thick muscles of his chest were on full display beneath that tattoo. When my gaze fell lower, I gulped at the etched muscles of his abdomen and the perfect V pointing toward the hip-hugging black pants he wore.

Those pants clung to his thighs, each of which was easily the size of both of mine put together. A pair of black boots rounded out his simple attire, along with the head dangling from claws at least six inches long.

I did a double take when my brain fully registered the head dangling from his claws. I’d been so focused on the man at first that I didn’t notice he had part of his hand embedded in someone’s skull.

The ice flowing through my veins froze into an iceberg that ceased moving. For one moment, everything inside me stilled before my heart lurched; it gave a lumbering beat before my pulse skyrocketed so fast I feared I might pass out.

This man, this beast, was holding a head, and as I stared at it, I realized it was still attached to a body.

The world spun, and my knees wobbled. To keep myself from falling over, I rested a hand on the bed as I tried to process everything I was seeing.

What is going on here? Who is this man? Did my mother really plot to kill me?

“Hello, Seth,” the elf greeted.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Briar

“We were just talking about you,” the elf continued. “What an interesting entrance you’ve made.”

The elf’s words shot my eyes up from the clawed head to the man’s face. All my icy blood rushed out of my head so fast that even with my hand on the bed, I swayed, and my knees buckled a little. I managed to catch myself before I crumpled to the ground.

My eyes darted over the man’s face again and again as I sought some sign of familiarity or warmth. There was nothing there.

This can’t be Seth; those aren’t his eyes!

While Seth had been extremely handsome, it certainly wasn’t the almost malicious beauty this man emanated. He was tall the last time I saw him, not quite this tall, but close. Muscles had etched his stomach, legs, and arms, but he’d been lean and not bulky like this.

He didn’t have a scar, and his black hair was long and silky. Ten years ago, he’d still had a bit of a baby face and some facial hair, but it was nothing like the thick stubble lining this man’s jaw.

Seth also didn’t have a tattoo, and he couldn’t have gotten one while locked in the harem. The elf said he hadn’t seen Seth in a while, so he was probably wrong, but how had this man gotten in here? He certainly wasn’t a caster, and only a caster could enter the harem.

While I didn’t believe he was Seth, his size, the claws, and the animalistic power emanating from him made it clear he was a shifter. But he hadn’t been in one of the cells; I hadn’t seen any shifters in the harem.

So how did he get in? And who is he?

I refused to believe this towering creature with its claws poking through a head was the same man I loved. In the years since I last saw Seth, time had changed me too, but not into something unrecognizable.

Seth had been loving, kind, and so tender that his beautiful soul made my heart ache. This man was ruthless and brutal; I sensed nothing kind about him.

Ten years in the harem will change anyone into anything.

That was very true, but this man wasn’t in the harem! I’d searched it from top to bottom. I would have remembered seeing him.

You were the one hoping there was somewhere else to search, someplace you missed. You must have missed something. That’s the only way he can be here.

But his eyes… those aren’t Seth’s eyes. His eyes had been the most glorious shade of Caribbean blue I’d ever seen; I’d spent hours gazing into them and marveling at how perfect they were. They’d also always been filled with love when he stared at me.

And while these orange eyes were intriguing and completely unusual, they certainly weren’t a blue so perfect, it was impossible not to get lost in them. A hatred so intense it rattled my bones, filled those eyes. Seth would never look at me like that.

“That’s not Seth,” I whispered.