Shadows swirled across the ground, edges lapping against her feet like ice water.
Her tired eyes drifted to the bars, but through the gleam of blue, she saw nothing. Caliban wasn’t here, then.
So why were the shadows?
The remnants of her dream clung to her. Without the amulet, she could remember nothing in detail. Only flashes of water at her ankles, pure and cool. A harsh droning sound. Then nothing.
It must have been the same dream from before.
Was that why her head hurt so badly?
Luella rested back against the wall, sitting up halfway.
The shadows grew, shifting before her eyes until they took the form of a male. She blinked, wondering if she imagined it in her fevered, exhausted state.
But it was there—before her eyes.
The absence of light within the shadows bled into color. Deeply tanned skin, eyes that she would know anywhere, large shoulders, hands that were scarred and calloused yet touched her so sweetly, deep brown hair that fell over a strong brow. And curving horns that jutted above.
Luella could only stare.
"Az," she breathed.
Az washere. Standing in the cell, right before her. His amber eyes fell to where she sat, and a choked sob ripped free from her chest as she scrambled up to a stand.
"Az, Az," Luella sobbed, throwing herself against him. She was so tired; he caught her weight easily.
"Luella," Az said, a large hand tangling in her matted white hair. Her wings—once still and curled—shivered at the sound of his voice. "You are okay, Luella. I am here now. Don’t worry."
His strong arms enveloped her with desperation. She tucked her face into his chest and breathed in. His scent was muted. Or maybe she’d been tucked away here so long her senses had dulled. But being in his arms didn’t quell the sick churning in her stomach; it worsened.
It was nothing,she assured herself.
This was Az. He was here. She would be saved!
He cupped her cheeks and pulled away, eyes scouring hers. "I am here now. Please, don’t cry. I hate to see your tears." The words were so caring that she cried harder.
"Why are you h-here—how did you find me?" she hiccupped. "Where are the others? Are we leaving?"
His eyes filled with sadness. "Luella, I am not here to rescue you."
Her lips parted. "What—why? What do—what do you mean? I thought…"
He leaned forward, fingers digging into her cheeks and jaw. Her ruined arm curled against her chest, and she placed her good hand on his shirt. The fabric was cold and unfamiliar under her palm.
"There is no being rescued. Not from this. Gods, I wish I could save you." Az leaned forward, and her lids fluttered shut as he pressed his lips to her brow, then moved down to her cheeks, tasting her tears. "Let me help you, Luella," Az begged. "Let me make you feel at peace. If I cannot save you, I can help you be at ease here."
She tried to shove him off. "Az, stop."
He didn’t stop. His teeth dug into her jaw, and she gasped at the soft bite of pain. His tongue soothed the ache. It felt nothing like him. He was cold to touch. If a bit dreamy, then wholly hypnotic. But his presence did not soothe. It agitated.
His grip turned bruising. Her hand shoved at his chest, clawing.
"Az, this isn’t you. It’s not."
He gripped her cheeks, turning tender in an instant as he pressed the tip of his nose to hers. That was Az. Yet his fingers dug in so hard his nails cut her flesh. That was not Az.
Az did not touch her so roughly.Never.
