“Abandoned cabin. I cleaned up while you were sleeping.”
The words are crushed velvet, too deep and dark to be presented so quietly. And when fused with the way he’s prowling toward me, I’m half certain my spine’s about to give out.
He holds my eye contact until we’re standing chest to chest, every breath erasing the space between us. Gently, he lifts his hand and reaches around the back of me.
My heart lurches, though I keep my face smooth.
Impassive.
I hold his shadowed gaze while he takes my fragile wrist in the crushing might of his large, calloused hand, except he’s not crushing me at all. His grip is almost … tender. Like I’ve imagined he cossets the coal when he’s sketching.
For some reason, it makes the backs of my eyes sting.
I blink, but continue to hold his gaze, something in those inky depths screaming for me totrust him.
Problem is, I don’t trust myself. Not now.
Not ever.
“I’ll wait forever, Milaje.”
The words are butter soft. Salt to my wound. When did he learn to handle sentences with such care? Why now?
I’ll wait forever …
The messed-up thing is, I believe him. And I can’t stand this tension for another minute, let aloneforever.
Slowly, and with my pulse raging in my ears, I drop the cloth and release my arm, allowing him to pull it between us, baring the wound in my wrist that’s leaking a line of blood.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The darkness in his eyes bleeds into the skin surrounding them, his canines sliding down so fast I get a chilling visual of how quickly he could rip into somebody’s throat. He releases a rumbling sound so deep I feel it vibrate through my bones.
He looks at me in a way that breaks me down into tiny bits. “Did you do this on purpose?”
My breath hitches, heart thunders. All the softness has gone from his words—now sharp and hard like the axe he was wielding.
“What? No! I—”
His thumb brushes the side of my wrist where a bruise is blooming from all the times I tried to wriggle my hand free.
He frowns. “Milaje, you just unclip it.”
Fuck.
Gently turning the cupla, his frown deepens. He touches the clasp, then pulls his finger back, revealing a stamp of burnt flesh.
He goes deadly still, his energy filling the room so fiercely I can hardly breathe.
“I— I got caught without it, and Cainon—”
My words clog my throat as I catch another glimpse of that deeper darkness in his eyes. The one that makes me feel like I’m being watched.
Hunted.
