Page 35 of Wicked Depths

Becauseof courseshe thinks that.

After everything. After I have fought with her, after I have bled for her, after I have healed her—she still doesn’t trust me?

It’s a slap to the face. A burn that lingers.

I wrench my wrist from her grasp, stepping closer, pushing into her space until she is forced to tilt her head down to meet my gaze. “If I wanted to leave,” I murmur, voice low and sharp, “I would have.” My lips curl, taunting. “If I wanted you dead, you would be.”

Her jaw clenches.

“You distrust me so much that even now, when I am at your side, when I have done nothing but help you, you still think I would betray you?” I tilt my head. “You wound me, Nyxara.”

Her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t pull away.

“I have been loose in this castle for weeks. I have walked its halls, dined at your tables, slept in your bed”— I smirk as her pupils dilate — “and yet, I am still here. Bound to you. Bound by choice.”

I shake my head, exhaling sharply. “I was not trying to run. I was siphoning energy from my realm. Refueling. How do you expect me to help win your war if you won’t even let me access the magic I need to fight beside you?”

A muscle ticks in her jaw.

She knows I’m right.

And that only makes her angrier.

“I do not need your help.” The words are cold. Dismissive.

And I snarl.

I shove against her, not enough to move her, but enough to make my point. “Liar.” My voice is venom, dark and sharp. “You do need me. You bound yourself to me because you knew you couldn’t do this alone. And yet, you refuse to trust me. Why?”

She stiffens.

I see it then. The flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

I exhale, forcing myself to calm.

Forcing myself to understand.

There is more to her fear than just my power.

I shift tactics.

My voice drops into something softer, something deadly. “Or,” I hum, tilting my head, my lips grazing the shell of her ear, “are you afraid of what I might do with that power?”

Her breath catches.

Ah.

That’s it, isn’t it?

My lips curve into a slow, knowing grin.

Her claws twitch against the table, her fingers flexing, like she’s seconds from either shoving me away or pulling me closer.

I reach for her, trailing my fingers lightly down the inside of her wrist, slow and deliberate.

“Tell me, Dragon Queen,” I whisper, voice like smoke. “What is it you truly fear?”

Her pupils blow wide.

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