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I could not be weak.
Not…not before. And not now.
Gods, I was so thirsty. Hungry. And restless. My muscles felt unused, as if I’d slept for years, but it hadn’t been years. Days, maybe. Days while I listened to a voice. His voice. The voices of others. My mind was a mess of racing thoughts, explosions of knowledge that kept coming. But I needed to move.
I needed…something.
Sustenance.
I needed to feed.
The throbbing in my jaw increased. I really wanted to open my eyes. Eather pulsed, first in my chest, before flooding my body with sheer will. My lashes fluttered and then lifted. I finally opened my eyes to darkness and the cool press of a body next to mine.
His body.
And it had grown still.
At first, there were just blotches of shadow, but my eyes quickly adjusted. Even with the lack of light, I clearly made out a side table holding a small wooden box. My gaze slowly moved over a wardrobe and a few chests. A table. Two chairs. That felt different, as if it had changed. Confusion and curiosity rose as fragments of memory existed just outside my reach. I spied two closed doors. Everything was spare and darkly colored. It had no life.
Except for the splashes of color strewn about a long couch. Gowns of vibrant blues and red, blouses and vests. That felt new, too. It seemed significant and—
“Sera?” The body beside mine trembled.
My hunger had momentarily gone silent as I took in my surroundings, but now it returned with a vengeance. Muscles tensed. I dragged in a deeper breath, drawing his scent into me.
My arms and legs moved at once, propelling me into a crouched position as my head whipped toward the source of the voice.
“It’s okay,” he repeated softly, carefully.
Through tangled, pale curls, I saw only what was inside him. My head tilted as eather throbbed in my chest and then moved throughout me, recognizing what coursed through his veins. He was chock-full of eather. It filled him. My mouth watered as he sat up more, his chest bare. I sensed what he was.
A Primal.
But his flesh was cold, and the part of me that now felt eons older knew what that signified.
He wasn’t just a Primal.
He was the one I eventually submitted to, no matter how strong I was, how vicious and tenacious I could be. He would always win because he was the end to my beginning. He was a Primal of Death.
Mine.
The word flickered wildly through my mind, and I didn’t understand what it meant. I was too hungry to concentrate, too distracted by the sudden realization that he was one of two.
And I knew there shouldn’t be two Primals of Death. It would upset the balance, and balance must—
“Do you—?” He cut himself off with a curse. His throat worked on a swallow, drawing my attention. He lifted a hand. “Sera—”
A sharp slice of agony lit up my face from my jaw to my temples, forcing out a hiss of pain. I shrank back.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I would never hurt you.”
Despite how weak I was and the threat he posed, I laughed, and the sound was throaty and warm like a summer wind. “Hurt me?” I breathed, tipping forward as I let the essence come to the surface. A silvery aura crept into the sides of my vision. “You may be inevitable, but you cannot stop me.”
His brows furrowed. “I don’t want… Shit.” His expression smoothed out, and I saw a slight twitch to his lips as if he might smile or laugh. I somehow knew I would like that sound. “I thought I was prepared for this. Apparently, I’m not.” He inhaled deeply. “Let me try again. I don’t want to stop you. I don’t even want you to submit to me—not now or ever.”
My heart started thumping heavily as I stared at the male. His words confused me because I had to give in to him, but they also made sense because I didn’t.
“Unless it’s one of those times you want to submit.” One side of his lips curled, and his scent increased with…arousal. “Then I am more than happy to oblige.”
