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“You asked me if my scars still hurt.” Her breath caught. He never spoke about this. Not even with his friends. He cleared his throat. “They do.”
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Mira knew it was no accident that his gaze didn’t meet hers. For someone like Dawson, who always had to be in control, revealing something vulnerable was like handing someone a weapon. Avoiding eye contact was all he could do to make it seem less invasive.
She remained very still, waiting for him to elaborate if he wanted.
Absently he ripped the open bow tie from his neck. “Some of the scars are from battles with other Wielders. Some from demons. Quite a few are from Mercer himself when he tortured me.”
The oxygen in the room seemed to grow thin as she watched him closely, his eyes downcast, chasing a memory that had forever changed him.
“I got very familiar with pain. At first, Mercer forbade me from seeing a healer to remove the Dark Magic residue from his spells. He wanted me to suffer, after all.”
He was quiet for a moment, and every fiber in her tensed.
Then he inhaled deeply. “By the time I got the enthrallment, it was too late to heal the other scars. Turns out the incantation on my chest is steeped in so much Dark Magic, it keeps the leftover magic from the other spells locked in my body.”
Mira tried her hardest not to make a noise. Her heart broke for him.
He remained silent another minute. Then he slowly raised his gaze to her. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of silver she had ever seen. Bright. With specks of ice blue. “That answer your question, Winters?”
She nodded, unsure of how to react. If she thanked him for sharing that with her, he would never do so again.
“Do me a favor.” He sat against the archway of the window, looking out into the night sky. “Have a drink with me. I certainly need one.”
It didn’t seem like a wise move.
“It’s just a fucking drink.” He pulled out a flask from his jacket.
She sat down opposite him in the archway and took a sip, coughing after the whiskey burned her throat.
“Why did you take gavisus? To impress your friends?” he asked.
She passed the flask back to him. “I didn’t want to impress anyone. I just knew I couldn’t fake happiness all evening and for once, I just wanted to feel like myself again. Not this damaged person I’ve become.”
He took a sip, quietly contemplating what she had said. He always looked like he catalogued her every response, her every move stored in some mental library. “First time I took gavisus, I had a full panic attack. I wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t want you to be alone tonight.”
“I feel fine,” she lied. Sex had distracted her from the familiar numbness that was already spreading inside her again.
“You didn’t look fine when I first walked in.”
“I guess fine is the wrong word. I’m never fine. I’m alive. Made it another day.”
He took another sip. “Good. I’d like to keep it that way.”
The comment, combined with the intense way he looked at her, made her adrenaline spike.
“Can I ask you one more question? Or are you going to threaten me again if I do?”
His eyes narrowed. “I can’t make any promises, but go on.”
“Have you tried to destroy the amulet?”
Tension returned in an instant, and for several seconds he remained quiet. “Obryn looked into it,” he finally answered. “Obviously I couldn’t destroy it because Corvin would put me under enthrallment if I got too close. But Obryn’s research shows that even if we could get to it, we couldn’t destroy it.”
“But Obryn could at least become the amulet’s master, like Corvin is now. And he would never activate your enthrallment incantation.”
A muscle feathered in Dawson’s jaw. “You’re still a little healer, desperate to save others. The amulet is not a simple piece of jewelry. It poisons its wearer.” He jerked his chin toward her arm. “What about your scar?”
