Page 30 of His Claim
He shook his head violently. “No. I won’t let them lay a hand on you. You’re mine.”
“I know.” My voice cracked. I lifted a hand to his cheek, forcing him to see me, not the soldiers. “And because I’m yours, I need you alive. If fighting them means you die, then what’s the point?”
Boots shifted against the floor as the soldiers lowered their weapons a fraction, listening. Maelor stood behind the half-circle of soldiers, his presence cool and controlled.
“She’s not going to be hurt,” Maelor said at last, his voice carrying down the corridor. “She’ll be studied. Monitored. Nothing more. That’s the Council’s order, and well you know it, Commander.”
Varek growled low in his chest, rage flashing in his eyes. “You expect me to believe that?”
“You expect her to stay safe if you slaughter half my men in a hallway?” Maelor countered, his tone measured, almost respectful. “We need answers, and the Council is willing to shed blood in order to get them, even if that means losing you to our cause.”
I felt Varek bristle under my hands.
“Please,” I said softly, rising on my toes so that I could meet his eyes. “Let them take me. Do this. For me.”
His breath came hard, ragged, each inhale rattling his body against mine. His claws flexed once more, then slowly slid back into his hands.
“I swear,” he rasped, voice breaking, “if they hurt you…”
“They won’t,” I said quickly, even as fear coiled tight in my stomach. “And if they try, you’ll come for me. I know you will.”
His chest rose and fell, steadying by degrees. Finally, he tore his gaze away from me to glare down the corridor at Maelor. “She goes under my terms. If one of you so much as breathes wrong, I rip your throats out.”
Maelor inclined his head slightly, like a man conceding a point to a dangerous equal. “Fair enough, Commander. You have my word.”
The soldiers shifted uneasily, but no one argued. The tension eased a fraction, but Varek’s arm wrapped around my waist and stayed locked, keeping me close, as though he would fuse me to his side if it meant keeping me safe. Before we left, he pulled a shirt over his head and grabbed a button-up shirt from his uniform pack, draping it over my shoulders. His gaze met mine as he buttoned it, one by one, before his arm wound around my waist once more.
The walk to the medical wing felt like a march to my own execution.
The hallways were too bright, the fluorescents buzzing like angry insects above us. I walked in the middle of a wedge of wolves, Varek glued to my side, his arm iron around my waist. Thesoldiers kept their distance, but their eyes never left me, sharp and hungry, like they were waiting for me to snap and murder them all.
I kept my chin up even though my stomach was twisting. My bare feet slapped against the cold tile, and the gauze on my elbow tugged where the blood had been drawn.
Varek walked beside me like my own personal shield, silent but terrifying, the silver in his eyes catching the light. Every soldier gave him space, knowing one wrong move would have him ripping into them again. He hadn’t unclenched his jaw since we left his quarters.
When the reinforced door hissed open, the stench of antiseptic hit me first. The medical wing was too clean, the air full of bleach, as if it had been scrubbed free of anything human. White walls. Stainless steel counters. Monitors blinking with lines I didn’t understand.
The sight made my skin crawl.
“Step forward,” one of the med techs said, her voice clipped but not unkind. She gestured to a padded chair bolted to the floor. Straps hung from its arms, sides, and base.
I froze.
Varek’s growl rolled through the room, low and dangerous. “No restraints.”
The tech’s throat bobbed. “It’s protocol.”
Varek bared his teeth, just enough for the light to catch them. “Not with her.”
Maelor’s voice cut in, calm but sharp as a knife. “No restraints.”
The tech hesitated, then nodded, gesturing again. “Please.”
I forced my legs to move, one step, then another, until I lowered myself into the chair. The leather was cold against my skin, the smell of disinfectant clinging to it. My fingers curled tight around the armrests, nails biting into the leather surface.
“You’ll feel a sting,” the tech said softly, sliding a tray closer. She pulled a syringe from a sterile wrapper, clear liquid glinting inside.
My heart hammered so loud I swore everyone could hear it. My throat clenched, but I kept my voice as even as I could. “What is it?”
