Page 79 of Claimed In Darkness

And for reasons I can’t afford to examine?—

I can’t let that happen.

We stumble into a dimly lit chamber, an abandoned hideout in the undercity.

The door slams shut behind us, sealing us into the silence, the suffocating heat, the stench of sweat and desperation.

Zephiran collapses against the nearest wall, sliding down until his legs are sprawled out before him, chest rising in uneven, labored breaths.

His face is too pale, his lips slightly parted, sweat dampening the dark strands of his hair.

His body shakes.

I’ve seen him fight, break, rip men apart like they were nothing.

But I have never seen him like this.

Vulnerable.

Weak.

And I don’t like it.

"Stay with me," I murmur, kneeling beside him, fingers reaching for his wrist.

The moment I touch him, his body jerks, his breath shuddering.

His pulse is too fast.

Too unstable.

The curse is still sinking its claws into him, still pulling him under. I need to do something.

Anything.

My fingers hover over the collar of his tunic, over the burning marks seared into his flesh.

A brand.

A reminder.

A fucking leash.

His father’s voice still lingers in my ears, thick with cruel amusement.

"You were never destined to be free, boy."

I grit my teeth, shoving the memory aside.

Zephiran groans softly, his head tilting back, exposing the sharp line of his throat.

"Still… don’t take orders well, do you?" he murmurs, voice hoarse.

I glare.

"Shut the fuck up," I snap. "You’re dying."

His lips curve slightly, a weak, exhausted smirk.

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