Page 96 of Claimed In Darkness

Even if she hates me.

I lower my head, lips hovering just above hers, not touching, just close enough that I know she’s waiting for it.

"You want to know why I didn’t stop her?" I murmur.

Her breath shudders, but she doesn’t move away.

"Because wanted to see if I still could."

"And?" she whispers.

I exhale slow, my hands tightening on her arms, dragging her flush against me, needing her to feel what I cannot fucking say.

"You already know the answer."

33

NAIRA

His words should mean something.

They should fucking matter. But they don’t.

Because know men like Zephiran.

I know the way they take, consume, destroy and call it devotion.

He holds me too tightly, his fingers pressing into my skin like he’s trying to anchor himself to me, like I’m the only thing keeping him steady.

Like I am his. But he is not mine.

Not ever.

And I will not be fooled into believing otherwise.

He still hasn’t let me go.

His breath brushes my lips, hot and unsteady, like he’s fighting something inside himself.

Like he’s waiting for me to believe him.

To tell him that what he just admitted—what he just fucking realized—changes anything.

It’s too late.

I have already bled for him.

I have already let myself be consumed.

And now, there is nothing left to give.

I should rip my wrist from his grasp and drive my knee into his ribs and remind him exactly what I am.

But instead, I tilt my head just slightly, just enough to see the sharp cut of his jaw, the shadows dipping under his throat, the pulse hammering beneath his skin.

"You expect me to believe you?" I whisper.

His grip tightens.

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