Page 38 of Demon Monster's Little Human

She hesitates, her pride a tangible thing, sparking in her eyes, in the way her lips press together.

For a moment, I think she’ll argue.

She exhales and nods, her shoulders easing ever so slightly.

I pretend not to notice.

Inside, the cave is cold, but dry. The walls are uneven, jagged in places, but the space is deep enough that we are hidden from the sky.

Liora sinks to the ground almost instantly, stretching her legs, rolling her shoulders, exhaustion finally slipping past her defenses.

I remain standing, arms crossed, watching her.

She notices.

“What?” she mutters, rubbing her temples.

I don’t answer.

She shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have taken her.

I should have let her die with the others.

Why did I tear through my own kind to keep her breathing?

I exhale slowly. “You need rest.”

She glares at me. “You don’t?”

I don’t answer.

Her gaze lingers on me longer than it should, as if she is seeing something she shouldn’t, something she isn’t supposed to.

She looks away.

The fire between us, invisible, untouchable, burns hotter than before.

We rest. But neither of us sleep.

16

DAIN

Liora shifts against the cold stone, her breathing uneven, skin pale beneath the dim flicker of light in the cave. She’s finally asleep, but it’s not restful.

Her body burns.

Not with magic. With sickness.

She had been slowing all day, her steps faltering, her hands trembling even when she tried to hide it. Too much strain. Too little food.

Now, here she is, collapsed against me, her body shivering despite the heat rolling off her in waves.

Her fever is high.

I press my palm against her forehead, my hand dwarfing her face, skin too warm, breath too shallow. She murmurs something, too soft to make out, lips parting slightly, dry and chapped.

She is fragile.

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