Page 114 of Claimed In Darkness

She has not eaten in days, but she does not starve.

She has not slept, but she does not falter.

Does she even need this?

That realization—that clawing, sinking truth—settles in my stomach like poison.

If she doesn’t eat, if she doesn’t need to sleep, if she no longer needs any of the things that keep her grounded in this world?—

Then what the fuck is keeping her here?

She needs the antidote for the poison I gave her, but it hasn’t affected her at all.

Her fingers are too cold.

Even with the fire so close, even with the heat of our bodies, even with the warmth of the night pressing in around us.

I slide my thumb over the inside of her wrist, testing.

Her pulse is still there.

Still steady.

Still beating.

But slower. It’s crawling almost to a stop.

Her lashes lower slightly, something unreadable flickering across her face.

"Checking to see if I still exist?"

My grip tightens.

"You know damn well that’s not what I’m doing."

She exhales, raising her head again, watching me, studying me, mocking me without words.

She is waiting for me to say it.

To admit it.

To tell her that I see her slipping, that I know she is not the same, that I know I might not be able to pull her back.

But I don’t.

If I say it?—

Then it is real.

And if it is real?—

Then I have already lost her.

So instead?—

I lie.

"You’re fine."

---