Page 53 of Sienna Rossi: Beyond Shattered Trust

“You can leave,” Jayce says after a moment.

“I don’t want to,” I state, as I look around before taking a seat on the bed. “What if the answer is in my dream-”

“No.” His eyes snap open, those brilliant blues cold and hard. “Don’t you ever learn?”

I pout slightly. “I do. I’m not going to barter with anyone-”

“You’re just going to touch that egg thing and hope for a fucking answer? Goddess, Sienna, do I need to put you on a fucking leash?”

“I’d like to see you try.” I frown. “I’m just suggesting ideas! Do you have a better one?”

He raises a brow and looks at me with what borders on arrogance. “No, but I wouldn’t call that an idea.”

“Well, then, I’ll wait for your brilliant plan, Captain,” I retort, crossing my arms.

He forces a sarcastic smile through the pain. “Glad to hear you’ll do that for once,” he counters, sarcasm dripping from every word before resting his head back against the wall, the veins in his neck pulsing.

He’s in a lot of pain, even if he’s trying to hide it. My frown softens, and I move closer.

“Don’t,” he says sharply, stopping me.

“I just want-”

“My wolf is more in control than I am right now, so I suggest you stay the fuck away,” he warns.

I frown slightly but nod. “Fine. I never realised Jayce Westwood, who was always so impeccably in control, is now struggling,” I say, unable to help myself.

He shakes his head. “Don’t forget that right now I’m trying not to succumb to whatever this wound did to me. I’m in control; you have no fucking idea of the capacity of control I’m exercising right now,” he says icily.

“Oh, yes, of course. You should really stop talking and focus on that,” I say with a toss of my hair.

He scoffs again, and I wonder how many times he had to scoff like that to pull it off with just the right amount of scorn and arrogance.

But keeping him talking is good… The more he focuses on me, the less he focuses on the wound.

“Exactly what I’m trying to do,” he points out, gritting his teeth together as he rests his head back against the wall, trying to steady his breathing. “This is not how I want to return to England.”

“Well, there’s no other option; we don’t know what might happen, so I’m afraid you can’t just walk there with your visor under your arm, and your battle scars glowing,” I say softly. I move closer, but this time he doesn’t say anything, or he hasn’t noticed.

He looks down at me, and I stare at his chest. Gods, he’s so sculpted. In the Gods’ Realm, he had many scars.

“Do you think the scars that painted your body were injuries you will attain?” I ask softly, touching his abs lightly, remembering where one of the glowing scars had been.

His hand closes around my wrist, stopping my descent.

“Maybe,” he says quietly, but his breathing is becoming laboured. “There isn’t a drakath in this room with us, is there?”

I shake my head, concern filling me; his body is burning up. “No, it’s just us; we’re safe. Anything you see isn’t real. It’s within your mind. You’re sitting on this bed, and I’m right here. Focus on my touch,” I whisper before I boldly place it flat on his abs, running it down.

My entire body comes alive with fire, with the feel of him beneath my fingertips. I hear a slow, drawn-out exhale, but it’s doing the job. I can see the way his body is relaxing, the way his grip on my hand has relaxed.

How the roles have reversed – only the last time he was able to save me, and I’m unable to save him, but have I really tried?

No…

There’s got to be something I can do. There has to be.

Think, Sienna, think…