Page 115 of When Death Whispers

The word settles into the space between us like a promise—or a threat. Maybe both.

I don’t speak. I don’t move. I just… sit there, staring at him, heart pounding in a rhythm that doesn’t feel like mine.

He could touch me now. He could take everything he says he wants. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he stands there, impossibly still, like he’s giving me the space to bolt, even knowing I won’t. Not again. Not when I know what’s outside this place. Not when a part of me is curious…

I don’t understand it.

I don’t understandhim.

“Why haven’t you?” I ask, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “Claimed me, I mean.”

His expression doesn’t change, but something in the room tightens. The shadows tense—just slightly. Almost like they’ve been waiting for that question, too.

“Because you are not ready,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “And I want you willing.”

My throat tightens. “You keep saying that, but I’m not sure I believe it. Not after running from you my whole life, not after what you took with your shadows, the last time.”

“That was a mistake,” he replies. “I had to learn, to find out. Your desire feeds me more than your fear ever did. But it has to beyours.Not coaxed. Not stolen. Given.”

I look down at the place where his shadow still coils lightly around my wrist. It hasn’t moved. It’s just… waiting.

“Then why does it feel like you’re waiting for me to break?” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then, quietly, “I’m waiting for you tochoose.”

And god, that terrifies me more than anything else. Because some fractured part of me wants to—wants to lean into him. Into the quiet. Into the stillness of being held by something I should run from. Somehow it feels like finally accepting my fate, facing my fears, my monster. It feels like surrendering to what was inevitable.

I glance back up at him, eyes stinging.

“I miss the tether,” I murmur. “To Rad. I didn’t realize how much it grounded me now that it’s gone.”

Something flickers across Steorfan’s face—barely more than a twitch, but his jaw tightens.

“It is not gone, exactly,” he says, voice low. “It is severedhere.”

I blink. “You mean?—?”

“I silenced it.”

There’s no apology in his tone. No pride either.

“You let him inside you. Insideus.That won’t happen again.”

The shadows around his feet curl tighter. He’s angry, but there’s no outburst, no flash of violence. Just that deep, icy steadiness that somehow feels more dangerous.

“You’re jealous,” I whisper, stunned by the realization.

“I’mcareful,” he corrects.

But the way his eyes burn—it isn’t careful at all. They trap me in their inferno, heating me from the inside out, spreading flames that are at odds with the cold of this place. And whereas before I would’ve feared that burn, now I’m ensnared by it, even if I have more questions that need answers.

“And Hudson?”

He pauses. “Alive. Intact. You left him behind for his safety. You were right.”

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