I groan, afraid of nipping her salt-stained palm with my chattering teeth.
A knock on the door has her head whipping up. Every bone in my body locks as I watch her leap off the bed with a burst of excited energy that sets me on edge.
I thought this island was abandoned. Has been fordecades.
Maybe … maybe she has amate.Maybe that’shisshirt she’s practically swimming in.
Maybe this is their nest.
I try to cover myself with the furs, the movement stabbing me with a strike of pain.
“Who is that?”
I’m not sure why the words come out thick. Even a little ... growled. I wish Zyke would slither up and offer me a spike or two. Maybe a spine fin. I’d settle for a fucking scale at this point.
Vicious rips open the door, and relief swirls in my gut when I see nobody’s there.
She bends, straightens, then comes back inside holding a weather-worn basket. She dashes toward me, ripping off the cloth covering the mound of contents: a stack of dried fish and a tiny jar that reminds me of Orlaith. I catch sight of the lucent powder inside, and a bitterly cold chill strikes my heart, pausing its frantic beat.
“Candescence ...”
She snatches the jar so fast her movements blur, and then she’s scooping a shell full of water.
“Who gave you that?” My voice is fractured with hesitancy. “Vicious?Please …”
No response as she sprinkles the powder on the water’s top and stirs it through with her finger, concentration dug deep into the iridescent swirl I can see from here.
Fear pulses to life—wild and unblinking.
If she drinks that … she’s not the person I thought she was.
Far from it.
“Vicious,” I growl, then curse this communication barrier staked between us as I try to sit up. Not sure why. Perhaps to bat it from her hand before it makes it to her lips.
I kick my leg off the edge of the nest—
She snarls, head snapping in my direction.
“I’m fine!” The words belt free, even as that ache inside my chest spears deeper.
Clambering onto the furs, she straddles my chest and brings the shell to my lips, her eyes wide.
Like a tail slap to the face, I realize what this is.
She wants me to drink it because she thinks it’ll heal me.
I squeeze my lips shut, hardening my stare.
Fuck. No.
Her eyes flash, then narrow as she tries to bore her finger between my lips, grunting at me.
Actuallygruntingat me.
I don’t care how sick she thinks I am, there is not one single part of me that willeverbe coaxed into drinking the ground thorns of an Aeshlian ear.
When she manages to get the tip of her finger past my lips, I nip at it, almost hard enough to draw blood. She whips her hand away and stuffs the tip into her mouth while she studies me.
