Page 81 of Claimed In Darkness

But right now, I don’t care.

I just need him alive.

His chest rises sharply, his lips parting, a choked sound spilling free.

I feel the slow, unsteady pull of magic between us, the way my blood seeps into the mark, the way it soothes something ancient, something violent.

Too fucking slowly, he exhales.

His body slumps.

His pulse steadies.

The curse stops fighting.

And when his eyes flutter open again, they are looking directly at me.

The tension in the room shifts.

The space seems to overflow with tension.

Charged.

His hand lifts, his fingers wrapping around my wrist, still slick with my blood, still pressed against his chest.

His skin is fever-hot beneath my touch. Our gazes lock.

Something else flickers between us.

Not anger nor power.

Something we both don’t want to figure out.

"Tell me," he murmurs, voice low, raw, curling against my ears like a dark confession.

"Was that mercy?"

I swallow hard, refusing to move.

Refusing to let go.

"It was a bargain," I whisper.

His grip tightens, his breath warming my lips.

"A bargain?"

I nod.

"You don’t die. And in return?—"

I lean in, just enough to make sure he hears me, just enough to taste the heat on his breath.

"You tell me the fucking truth."

His eyes flash.

For a second, I think he’s going to refuse. To fight me.

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