“You’ve ruined me, Delilah. In this world of deception and power, where I’ve lived among a murder of crows, you have become the one person capable of breaking through my defenses. You’ve made me vulnerable, isolated me from the safety of the Order and from the founding families. You are my greatest weakness.”
I pause and run my fingers through her hair, watching her eyelids flutter in deep sleep. “You’re also my greatest strength.”
As I sit there with my confession lingering in the atmosphere, I watch Delilah breathe steadily, recalling the first time I mether. And how I commemorated it by getting a tattoo, a testament to the profound impact she had on me.
Above the scar she gave me from the stab wound is a hawk, a bird of prey that represents her. Not only for its strength and intelligence, but also to remind me that I’m weak for her. The scar marks our beginning and also serves as a tree branch for the hawk, a foundation for the very thing that makes me vulnerable. Like that tree, I will shield her and be her safety.
She’s marked me in ways far deeper and more permanent than any tattoo could ever convey.
“Sleep as long as you can. When you wake up, you’re going to want to unleash your claws and fight me, but only one of us will win.”
Chapter 46
DELILAH
Ican feel Xavier.
My subconscious, as well as the rest of me, recognizes his presence. I don’t need a physical touch or sound to know when he’s near. His scent invades my senses, his energy prickling at my awareness.
Even in my dreams, where the darkness is complete and the silence deafening, he’s there. He’s the voice calling to me from the abyss.
“Little raptor...”
His words are a low hum, coaxing me to answer. To respond. I want to, but there’s something off about his energy.
“Open your eyes,” he says, his tone more forceful.
My lips part on a breath, and I obey his command. My eyelids flutter, but all I see is darkness. Until I locate him sitting in a chair across the room.
I don’t move. I can’t. Not when I fully take in the look on his face. A man shouldn’t be this beautiful. Especially since he looks like he wants to kill someone.
And he’s holding a knife.
There’s something almost hypnotic in the motion of his fingers as he tosses the blade from one hand to the other. Back and forth, back and forth, like a pendulum, marking each second with an unspoken threat. Then he throws it up in the air and catches it by the handle. The knife glints menacingly, a silent testament to the danger Xavier embodies. It’s intimidating, reminding me of the world he comes from.
The summons he just finished.
I lie there with adrenaline flowing through me like lava, heating my veins, while his gaze holds me captive. I swallow the nerves gathering in my throat and force myself to speak, if only to break through the tension.
“When did you get back?”
Xavier doesn’t answer. He rakes his gaze over me, his silver eyes bright even in the shadows.
“Did something happen?” I ask, trying again.
He remains silent and continues to look at me. His intensity, as usual, is unnerving.
“Xavier, are you okay?”
“Not even close,” he says, his tone rough.
“What’s wrong?”
“You.”
I scramble into a sitting position and hold the comforter to my chest. Although, nothing can remove the feel of his gaze from my skin. Even from across the room, it’s like a physical touch.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
