Page 8 of Claimed In Darkness

I exhale sharply, my mind racing. The High Council’s Vault is legendary. Impenetrable. It doesn’t hold just gold and treasures. It holds secrets. Forbidden magic.

And now this Dark Elf bastard wants me to walk into the maw of death itself and pluck a relic from its jaws?

“I won’t do it,” I say.

Zephiran smirks. “Yes, you will.”

I shake my head. “Find another thief.”

He steps around the table, closing the gap between us again.

“There are no other thieves,” he says. “There is only you.”

His voice wraps around me like silk and chains, and I fucking hate how true it is.

He’s right.

No one else could do this.

He knows it.

But I don’t look away. I won’t.

I lift my chin. “You better pray I don’t betray you, my lord.”

His smirk deepens. “Oh, little fox.”

He leans in, close enough for me to feel the heat of his breath against my mouth.

“I’m counting on it.”

4

ZEPHIRAN

She doesn’t trust me.

Good.

She shouldn’t.

Naira watches me with the wariness of a wild thing, her body still thrumming from the battle of wills we just fought. She thinks she has the upper hand—thinks she can walk away from me when this is over.

She can’t.

I won’t let her.

I pour the wine slowly, letting the dark liquid swirl in the goblet, watching the way her sharp eyes track every movement. She hasn’t moved from where she stands, arms crossed, defiant and fucking furious.

She knows I’m dangerous.

But she doesn’t yet understand that I am cruel.

I glance up, meeting her glare with a lazy smirk. “You look like you’re contemplating murder, little fox.”

Her lip curls. “I am.”

I chuckle, lifting the goblet. “Drink.”

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