Page 158 of She Who Holds My Wrath

He pulls out until just the tip remains.

“Mine.” Thrust.

“Mine.” Thrust.

“MINE!” he roars.

My orgasm slams into me—pain, pleasure, and fear blending into something intoxicating. A hoarse cry tears from my throat as my entire body trembles violently.

Korithax slams into me one final time, his guttural groan filling the dungeon as he spills himself inside me. We collapse together, shaking and panting as the intensity slowly ebbs.

We lie there in silence for several long minutes, the only sounds our hammering heartbeats and ragged breathing. I feel his gaze on me and turn my head to find his brow furrowed as he watches me.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says quietly.

That cracks something at last. Not because of what he did, or what just happened between us. But because of what I didn’t feel.

“I wasn’t sorry,” I admit softly. “That’s the problem.”

He rolls onto his side, cupping my cheek carefully, as if I might shatter, searching my eyes and waiting for me to continue.

“I didn’t feel sick. I didn’t feel bad for him,” I continue, the words feeling heavy as they leave my mouth. “I watched him die and all I could think was good. And that scares me.”

He strokes my cheek gently, “Daisy⁠—”

“What happens when this war is over?” I whisper. “If it ever is. If we survive it.” My voice trembles despite myself. “What will be left of me?”

I roll to my side to face him, searching his eyes for an answer I don’t think I’ll ever receive. Searching for a way for me to be okay after all of this.

“I’m becoming something colder. And I don’t know if I can undo it once it’s done.”

Silence settles between us once more. Then Korithax presses his forehead to mine.

“You were never meant to survive this war unchanged,” he says quietly. “None of us were.”

His thumb brushes beneath my eye, wiping away a tear I hadn’t realised had shed.

“But you are not evil for adapting,” he continues. “You are not broken because you can do what must be done.”

I want to believe him. I want to believe that this coldness is armour I can take off later. But as we lay there in the aftermath of the violence, surrounded by blood, a darker truth settles in my bones. War doesn’t just end when the fighting stops. And even if I survive it, I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same woman who entered it.

Chapter 50

EZRA

The healers won’t stop fussing.

I sit on the edge of the cot while they prod and murmur, exchanging looks like I’m one bad breath away from collapse. Cassyr stands directly in front of me, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching every single movement they make as if he’s daring them to screw up.

“I’m fine,” I say for the third time. “Honestly. It looks way worse than it feels.”

Cassyr doesn’t even look at me. “You were almost strangled to death.”

“Briefly,” I mutter.

“You were lifted off the ground.”

“Well, yeah…” I don’t even know what else to say to that, if I’m being honest.