Page 72 of Stroke of Shadows

Sythe reached for her hand, pulling her through the water until she straddled him. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, so instead he cupped her jaw.

“I don’t doubt your faith. In fact, I respect it. I just don’t believe the Gods would ever want you to be hurt for the sins of others.”

He hadn’t been able to get a good look at her back, but he had felt the rough skin against his chest. There wasn’t one or two marks. There were hundreds. Some even fresh.

Harper blinked away tears, and the knot tightened. All he wanted to do was go back to before he’d asked the fucking question. Where he wasn’t reminded that their little world surrounded in bubbles wasn’t real.

“My arm was badly damaged as a kid in a fire, burnt to the point I should’ve lost it.”

“Lost it?” Her eyes softened when they finally met his, so he continued, finding himself unable to stop.

He remembered the flames that ate away at the walls. The roar as the house began to collapse around him and the face of the person who’d thrown the bomb. “Without the help of a druid, I don’t know whether I’d even be alive.” A truth twisted in a lie, but close enough to still be a risk.

But it seemed he couldn’t help himself with her.

“A druid?” Gentle wrinkles appeared between her brows, and he reached up to touch them. “Is that what you are?”

Sythe smiled. “A good friend once told me it’s actions and morals that define someone, not their Breed.”

She held his gaze. “I don’t know what to say. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

“I know.” His fingers moved to trace over her cheekbones. “Is that why you wear a flame on your skin? To show your faith?”

“No.” Her voice was quiet. “That’s different. It was given as a reminder of who I was.”

Sythe waited, her pulse racing against her throat.

“I ran away when I was younger.” She licked her bottom lip, and Sythe stroked his hands down her arms, comforting. “He… Angel found me and wasn’t pleased. He said I was his gift from the Gods, so in punishment he branded me.”

Sythe hissed out a breath, startling her.

“Sythe?”

Blood roared in his ears, his beast tearing to the surface before he could stop it.

He’d snapped his eyes closed, his hands dropping to fist beneath the water. A warmth spread in his chest, and it was only when she placed a palm on his pec that he was able to keep his beast from bursting from his skin.

Fuck.

He’d never been so close to shifting against his will before. She may have just found out he wasn’t human, but she wasn’t ready to meet his beast.

“I’ve got to go.” He managed to manoeuvre himself out of the bath, leaving her alone in the water.

Claws prickled at his fingertips.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He needed to get away before he accidentally hurt her.

Harper hugged her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She said nothing as he pulled on his clothes, unable to look at her directly with eyes made of liquid silver.

“I’m sorry,” he said through clenched teeth, the strange warmth fizzling out entirely.

She remained silent, and he wanted nothing more than to stay. To comfort her. But he couldn’t.

Rage burned like acid through his veins. He wanted to roar. To fucking kill. And it wasn’t until hours later, back in the safe confines of his flat, had he calmed down enough to actually think. To breathe without the risk of his skin splitting at the seams.

Harper messed him up in ways she shouldn’t, and he finally understood why.

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