Page 5 of Too Dangerous To Die

Iwake to the scent ofsmoke and stone.

It clings to the air, thick and cloying, settling deep in my lungs as I struggle for breath. My body feelswrong—too heavy, too drained, as though something vital has beenleachedfrom me while I slept.

Pain flares in my limbs, a slow-burning ache that pulses beneath my skin. My fingers twitch against rough stone, the cold surface grounding me as my senses sluggishly return.Where am I?

I try to move.Something shifts in the darkness beside me.

A presence, vast and unmoving. Watching.

Not human.

My eyes snap open.

The chamber around me ismassive, its towering pillars stretching toward a ceiling lost in shadow. Faint moonlight filters through the cracks above, illuminating the wallsetched with runes I do not recognize. The air hums with something old,a dormant power, pressing against my skin like a whispering breath.

And then I seehim.

He is crouched a few feet away, wings half-unfurled, the embers beneath his obsidian skin pulsing like a dying star. He does not move, but his golden eyesgleamin the dim light, locked onto me with a hunger that isfar too focused.

A memory slices through my mind.

The ruins. The pact. My blood.

I gasp, lurching upright—too fast. The worldtilts violently, and my stomach clenches in protest.

A rough sound rumbles from his chest.Not quite a growl. Not quite amusement.

"Careful, little healer." His voice is deep, rough with disuse,gravel scraping over stone."You are weaker than you think."

I rub my temple, swallowing down the nausea. He is right.Something is wrong.My magic should have healed me by now,my body should be fighting back, not sinking further into exhaustion.

But it isn’t.

And I know why.

The bond.

The weight in my chest isnot my own.It ishis.

I lift my gaze back to him, my heart pounding. "What did you do to me?"

One brow lifts. "I saved you."

A sharp, humorless laugh escapes me. "You mean you,bound me."

The words taste like iron, bitter and unyielding.I should have known better.No magic is freely given—not in Protheka.Every spell, every act of power, has a cost.

And I have paidmine.

I shove away from the stone, ignoring the shake in my limbs as I put as much distance between us as possible. He does not move, does notblink, but I feel the weight of his attention like a physical thing, curling against my skin.

"Why am I still alive?" I demand. "You could have killed me. You?—"

"I still might," he interrupts.

Acold spike of fearlodges beneath my ribs, but I force myself to meet his gaze.I will not cower.

Rhaegar tilts his head, studying me like a predator toying with its prey. "You offered your blood," he says, low and dark. "You made the pact. You called me back."

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