Page 70 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

As Alora’s heart cleaved wholly through, she leaned down and cupped her High Prince’s face. “Can I help you?”

“Trying to see me naked, clever girl?” The corner of his mouth twitched.

There he is.A small stitch repaired a sliver of her wrecked heart and forced a shaken smile. Her warm lips brushed against his sweat-covered forehead, gently kissing him. “Not tonight. Let’s clean you up, okay?”

He nodded.

Alora helped Garrik stand. His body so weak, she steadied an arm around his back and planted her palm on his chest.

At a pace that allowed him to remain steady, Alora ushered him to the shower door.

Garrik’s clothing was soaked with sweat. Shirt mostly torn to shreds, his fingers fumbled over the buttons—what was left of them.

Shirt off, he struggled to grip his belt, strength not fully returned and fingers still numbed with receding black veins.

Garrik’s fingers shook frantically.

But Alora touched his wrist, and he stopped as she tenderly said, “Let me help.”

And she wondered if it took all of his strength to nod before he leaned against the stones.

Smokeshadows whipped across her hands in warning. Protecting him now because they couldn’t protect him against the female who abused him. But as the smoke rings danced around her fingers, their velvety bite turned to a mere tickle, then misted away, allowing her to continue.

Alora made quick work of unbuckling him, avoiding looking anywhere but the metal as she pulled the leather from the prong.

Glimpsing Garrik’s face, he had turned away. The black veins in his arms and fingers had returned with a death grip against the stones behind him. His body wound viciously tight. And she knew, underneath the lids pressed tightly closed, she’d see blackened abyss if he opened them.

When her fingers began to pull the belt through the loops of his pants, Garrik’s palm glided down her forearm. Holding—not stopping her. “Speak to me. Please,” he pleaded.

I need to know it is not her.

“I know this is likely a bad time, but have you ever considered wearing anything other than black?” She grinned as her hands pulled the belt through the last loop.

Garrik finally smiled—a strained smirk—but a smile, nonetheless. “What would you like to see me in? I will indulge your curiosity.”

“How about something gold?”

His muscles loosened, and something like a breathy chuckle repaired another broken piece of her heart as he promised, “I will wear gold for you one day. But I warn you, I will look utterly ridiculous.”

“I doubt that.” Finding the snaps and ties of his pants, Alora loosened them until his pants could easily fall. She hesitated, wondering if she should help him remove them when his dull orbs met hers. “Do you need help with these?” she asked.

“I can manage the rest.” Perhaps that was better. “Thank you, Alora.” Garrik turned, then hesitated.

In the reflection of the crystal door, his hollow eyes studied the mirrored image.

Alora watched as murky silver stared into the ones reflected in the door. How his face loosened in such a way, that it mirrored every ounce of disgrace and disgust he felt toward himself.

She wondered if he knew how his hand trembled at his side. How it reached to his waist and traveled along the V of muscles and across the open wounds on his abdomen. How his nails dug into his skin.

For a moment, all she saw in the reflection was disdain. Until a Smokeshadow curled across the reflection, blocking it entirely, and he dropped his head, gripped the metal handle of the door, and stepped inside.

“Do you have clean bedsheets?I’ll change them for you,” she called, but he didn’t respond.

Tendrils of darkness gathered around his bed instead, engulfing it entirely before whorling away to leave the bed perfectly clean and made.

Alora sighed at his use of power. As weak as he was, he shouldn’t be using any more strength than what remained.

“Can I get you anything?”

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