Page 13 of Fading Sun

I failed. Yes, I saved Abigail, but I failed Yannick and Cassandra.

A clan member died because of Lucas’s sick fascination with me. And I don’t think I’m ever going to stop wishing I’d simply said yes and let Lucas drink from me when he first asked.

Damien’s eyes flicker to mine, a glint of something unreadable passing through them.

I want to say something—anything. But before I can, he refocuses on the numbers ticking up on the screen, counting down the time until we’re forced to part again.

“What’s done is done,” he says simply, bitterness lacing his tone. “There’s no changing the past.”

I want to reach for his hand, to break through the ice surrounding him. To be here for him. To comfort him in this moment of darkness. To give him as much warmth and light as I can, even though mine is more drained than ever.

Even though I can barely feel my magic at all.

Instead, I tug at the duskberry bond, desperate for a hint of his emotions.

It’s like slamming into a brick wall. The pain of it reverberates through me, making it hard to breathe.

Even more hurtful is that if he feels me reaching for him, he doesn’t show it.

Eventually, the elevator dings, announcing our arrival at my floor, and the doors slowly open.

I hesitate, not ready to leave the confined space that keeps me physically close to Damien. If I walk away, I might lose the connection I have to him entirely. It’s not a logical thought to have—he likely just needs time to process what happened with Viktor—but what I’m seeing from him looks like more than pain, grief, or regret.

It’s like he’s shut himself down entirely.

Like the human part of him is gone, and all that remains is the predator I’ve always known lurks deep in his soul.

Amber

I shouldn’t say it. I know I shouldn’t.

“Can I come up with you?” I ask softly, the words coming out anyway.

“No.” He glares at me and reaches forward, pressing the button to keep the doors open. “Get out. Now.”

The command is cold and final, his face a mask of stone.

An instinctive part of me—the part that warns prey to run from a predator before they pounce—leads me out of the elevator and into the hall. But I turn back, unwilling to walk away just yet.

He keeps the doors open.

Maybe all isn’t lost.

“Take a break from training tomorrow,” he says. “You’ve been through enough tonight.”

Surprise jolts through me, freezing me in place. I’ve never been told to skip training. It’s an unspoken rule that no matter what we face, the training continues. It keeps us sharp. Keeps us strong. Keeps us alive.

Damien breaking that rule somehow scares me more than his cold, soulless detachment ever could.

“No,” I say, even though the exhaustion from everything that happened tonight is too strong to ignore. “I’m perfectly able to train tomorrow.”

“That’s an order, Amber,” he says. “Not a suggestion.”

The subtext in his words is clear.

It’s an order from my king. Not my boyfriend, my fiancé, or… whatever he is.

“You can’t stop me from training,” I say, angry now, challenging him.

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