Page 154 of Claimed In Darkness

He pulls away first, just slightly, just enough.

His forehead against mine, his breath still uneven, his hands still gripping me like he wants to break me apart, like he wants to put me back together.

His voice is hoarse, wrecked, a whisper of something I can’t handle.

"Tell me you don’t still want me, and I’ll let you go."

He still thinks I have a choice.

He still thinks this war is something I can walk away from.

He still thinks we are something that can end.

But we are not.

We never were.

I swallow hard.

My voice is barely a whisper."You should have let me die."

His grip tightens.

His expression shifts.

His lips press into a thin, hard line, and I know?—

He is done waiting.

Because am not getting away again.

I am still his.

I never stopped being his.

51

ZEPHIRAN

She still thinks she can fight me.

That’s a mistake.

Her wrists are in my grip, her body pinned between me and the crumbling stone wall behind her. Her breath is sharp, shallow, uneven—but she still hasn’t stopped struggling.

Even when she knows she’s already lost.

I feel her muscles coil beneath my fingers, the way she still dares to resist, as if she doesn’t remember exactly how this ends every time.

With her beneath me.

With her surrendering.

And I am so fucking tired of pretending otherwise.

Her lips are parted, not in fear.

Not in anger.

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