Warm, wet pressure erupts from my nose and ears, bleeding more of me.
“Get th— … away …”I reach for my ankle, tangling my fingers with my necklace.“Plea—”
Calah releases a bubbling breath against my flesh, and the draining tug on my skin abates. His lips unlatch as I slip from his loosening grip, falling back upon the stone in a listless heap—gasping. Weakly clawing at the slippery stuff spilling from my neck.
He wavers from side to side in a sinking sway, blood dribbling down his chin as all the darkness leaks from his eyes, leaving them the brightest blue I’veeverseen.
He looks straight at me, snatching my breath, the most pure, untainted smile grazing his bloody lips.
“Finally,” he rasps, eyes softening with unmistakable relief, before they go flat and lifeless—all the light draining away.
He crumples with a heavy thump that rattles his chains, staring sightlessly ahead; chest unmoving.
Eyes unblinking.
Dead.
I sob, my gaze traveling up the folds of a familiar black cloak, delving into the iridescent eyes of a man I’ve only seen once before. On the beach at Castle Noir.
My next breath is choked.
The scars on his neck are raised and gnarly beneath the spill of firelight, his chest heaving with a frantic, battering beat that has no rhythm. Like he’s clambering through each one, wrestling them into submission.
Baze’s eyes are pinned on Calah, and I look to where he’s staring—to the curved tip of a Vruk talon protruding from his heart.
The vision does something to me. Makes that dome inside me release a big, creaking groan as something scrape, scrape,scrapesat it from beneath.
Don’t cry—
I break my stare and stagger to a stand. “Baze?”
No answer—not even a blink.
I take a wobbly step around Calah, reaching, pausing when I see shadows battling within the tumultuous depths of his eyes.
A flash ofconflict.
I look down at Calah, back at Baze, then lift a trembling hand and cup his cheek. He flinches, pupils tightening as they land on me.
The faintest spark of … something, and a line forms between his brows, his gaze shifting down to my neck, up to my eyes again. He makes this deep throaty sound, before threading his hand through my hair and crushing me against his chest.
I buckle.
Break.
Every wisp of emotion that was nesting in dark spots and hiding between my ribs congeals into a sawing vine that shreds me open, baring my messy insides to the man who’s always seen my bruised and battered heart.
He tightens his arms and digs his face into my hair. “Don’t cry, Laith …”
Clinging to him, I sob harder.
“You should hate me,” I finally manage to choke out. “I— I …”
I’ve done so many terrible things.
He plants a kiss on my forehead, leaning back to wipe the tears from my cheeks with the edge of his hand. “Part of me does,” he admits, and I revel in the way that blow lands.
I deserve it.
