Page 13 of Secrets of Ruin

Lowering her arm, she rested her wrist against his lips. His lips skimmed back, and she felt his fangs before they pierced her flesh.

While he fed, she tried to lean closer to examine his back, but the blood adhering the remains of his shirt to his skin made it impossible for her to get a good look at the damage inflicted on him.

When his fangs retracted, she stroked his face again. “You can take more. I can handle it.”

“Later.”

“Brokk….”

But her protests died as he pushed himself up. With careful movements, he started to peel his shirt away. He winced when it clung to his skin.

“I can help,” she offered.

He scooted closer, and together, they finally removed the dried, bloody remnants from his back. Kaylia gulped at the puckered holes on his back that still hadn’t completely healed.

But the sight of those red holes that should have already healed wasn’t what made her stomach plummet. It was the dullness of his ciphers.

It was difficult to get a good look at them through the dried blood still clinging to him, but she saw enough to know their vibrant black color had faded to a dull gray. She’d never seen such a thing happen before and hadn’t known it was possible, but she couldn’t deny what her eyes were telling her.

He shuddered, and her fingers quivered as she traced those faded marks symbolizing a dark fae’s power. And Brokk’s power was fading.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kaylia tried to keep her distress over this realization hidden, but he must have sensed something as he edged away from the bars and dropped the remnants of his shirt on the ground. “I’m fine,” he stated.

But they both knew that wasn’t true. She wasn’t going to argue with him. “They brought us some water to clean ourselves.”

His head twisted toward the front of his cell. “Good.”

When he rose, his legs wobbled until he braced his feet apart and rested a hand against the back wall to keep himself upright. When he was steadier, Brokk removed his boots and ruined pants before tottering to the bucket; he knelt before it.

Kaylia examined each of his movements while he carefully scrubbed himself with soap and water. She’d relished touching, exploring, and bringing pleasure to his body before they were trapped here.

She’d learned what made him happy, what he enjoyed, and what it was like to make him lose all control. During that time, she memorized the dips and ridges of his muscles, the swirl of his ciphers, and the scar over his heart; she’d learned every inch of a body that fascinated her.

But now, she barely recognized it as his ribs and collarbones stood out starkly against his flesh. The once dark, black ciphers running from his wrists, across his shoulders, and back to his waist became more visible as he washed away the blood; they were grayer than she’d suspected.

She believed many of the dark fae kept some of their ciphers, and therefore the depth of their power, hidden. Brokk’s power was dwindling fast.

He could deny that starvation was weakening him, but his ciphers couldn’t, and she had no way of giving him the other nourishment he required. He could have her blood, but with these bars between them, she couldn’t feed the dark fae part of him.

She would give anything to help him, but all she could do was sit here and watch him waste further away until the ophidians killed them. She hated this place and this helplessness.

When he finished washing, Brokk gathered the cold, gross food the ophidians left behind and retreated to the back of his cell. Like her and the others, he settled onto his dirty clothes while leaving his ruined shirt by the door.

“I’m glad you’re awake again,” she told him. “I missed you.”

A smile tugged at his lips before vanishing. “I’m glad to be awake again.”

“What you did for me… you… you didn’t have to do that.”

He stopped eating, and his red eyes narrowed on her. “Yes, I did, and I’ll do it again. If I can stop them from going after you, I will. Every. Single. Time.”

The emotion constricting her chest and throat made it difficult to breathe, let alone talk. She’d never believed it possible for her to love another after Fabian, but she did.

Finding love twice was already such an impossibility for immortals, but a bigger one was starting to take place inside her—she might love Brokk more than she’d loved Fabian. While the realization caused the familiar guilt to rear its ugly head, that emotion wasn’t anywhere near as brutal as it once was.

How could she feel guilty about loving this man when he’d sacrificed himself for her and would continue to do so? He would do it until it killed him, and she couldn’t allow that to happen.