Liquor Bottles and Knives

Lyra

The bond doesn’t lie. I feel every spark of Declan’s rage as he forgets to mute the bond. It rolls over me in waves. Anger, grief, bloodlust so strong I can hardly breathe through it. He’s in the dungeon, and even though I can’t hear the chains or smell the blood, I don’t need to. It’s all pulsing down the tether between us, hammering against my chest until I think my ribs might crack.

I tuck