“Annabel is fine,” Etheera repeated, fighting the urge to move away from Larson. Staring down at her with that cold expression, his aura felt so much like Ozias’, it was uncanny. “She is enjoying some me-time and working on growing her powers.”
“And I am just supposed to believe you?” he scowled.
“You say it like you have a choice.” Etheera scoffed. “What are you going to do? Hit me? Torture me? Use that cursed power on me?”
William’s body stiffened, and she watched him as he swallowed with difficulty, holding back a retort. He studied her intently—her face, her hair, her eyes—as if searching for a crack to slide in and bring Annabel to the surface. He wouldn’t find any, especially since now Annabel was obediently staying quiet. They had made a new agreement—Annabel would not argue or
