Chapter 100
Vanya
I jerked as if someone had shoved me. For a flash—less than a breath—I saw him again, but not Kross the groom-within-a-court. This Kross looked like he had been pulled through a storm: eyes wide, face pinched with panic. He mouthed words I caught like a skipping record.
Find the door. Get out. Van—
Then the present snapped back like a trap shut, and the Kross in front of me smiled as if nothing had happened. Alexander inclined his head, the stately alpha presence steady as a mountain, and Kross said with fluid ease, “Kross Steele. Pleasure.”
My lips moved on automatic. “The pleasure is ours,” I replied, though the sound of my voice was a stranger’s. My heartbeat pounded under a thin film of wrongness.
“You look tense, mate. Everything all right?” he asked, his thumb
