Page 48 of Consume Me
“I’m sorry that you do.”
We stay like that for a while—her working in silence, me letting her. Every so often, she pauses, her fingers hovering over another tear in my skin as if she’s trying to decide whether to clean or curse first.
At one point, her hand stills completely. Her breath catches, and her eyes go distant.
It’s not distraction. It’s something else.
“Kendall.” My voice is quiet, but it still sounds rough. “What do you see?”
She blinks, and just like that, her gaze sharpens again. But she doesn’t answer.
I can feel it—whatever she saw, she’s holding it back.
Part of me wants to demand the truth. Another part… doesn’t.
“You’re pale,” she says instead, avoiding the question entirely. She reaches for a fresh cloth, dips it in the water, and starts on another wound. Her touch is careful, almost reverent.
I let her work, watching the way her hair falls forward over her face.
“You’re good at this,” I murmur.
“I told you, my sister?—”
“Not just the poison. Your bedside manner.”
Her lips twitch but don’t curve into a smile. “I’ve had practice. The shop draws trouble sometimes. I patch people up.”
“People like me?”
She meets my gaze briefly. “No one’s like you.”
Something in my chest loosens atthat.
When she finally leans back, I feel the absence of her touch like a drop in temperature. Then her brow furrows.
“Noctan… your arm.”
I glance down. The skin where my locator rune used to be is bare. No burn, no faint glow, no familiar thrum beneath the surface. Just smooth skin.
“It’s gone,” she says, her voice unreadable.
“I fulfilled my oath. The magic is complete.”
“You’re okay with that?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for a crack in the conviction. “You’ve lived for centuries, and you’re fine just… giving that up?”
“I hunted those blades for over four hundred years,” I say. “Every breath I took, every choice I made, every drop of blood I spilled—it was all for that oath. I let it consume me because I thought it was my only purpose in living without my cadre.”
Her voice is softer now. “And now?”
“I’m done serving masters who demand blood in their honor,” I continue. “I’m done hunting. Done chasing vengeance.”
She’s quiet for a beat. She swallows hard as if afraid of my answer as she asks, “What’s left, then? If you’re not a sentinel anymore, what are you?”
I reach for her, pulling her into my lap even as she fusses about the bandages she’s freshly applied. “Darling,” I tell her earnestly, “I thought that was obvious. I’m yours.”
