“Please,” he whispers. “Wake up for me…”
He lays her on the bed like she’s made of glass. Will he stay so dignified when she’s lying bare in his sheets?
“Please,Saelûn.. give me a sign you can hear me.”
He says it over and over, like a mantra, as if she can hear a single thing he says with the amount of sedatives running through her system.
Pathetic.
I adjust the mic slightly to compensate for the heat from the fire. The tech is sensitive. I’ve been testing it—mapping out how warmth distorts resonance.
“I’ve got you,Kaemorin. I don’t know if you can hear me, but you’re safe at home. I’m not leaving your side.”
I smile at the glass. Let him believe that.
I raise my hand and trace a slow heart into the frost with my fingertip.
I already have the cottage ready and waiting—a place where the delusion dies, where she’ll finally understand the difference between protection and possession.
He rushes around the room, snatching up vials and bowls. His movements are frantic but precise. Objects clatter against wood as he circles back to her.
His hands tremble as they rise to his chest. Then he drags a claw across his palm, slicing his skin.
I tilt my head—interesting.
Blood flows freely, spilling into the bowl like a crimson river. He stirs in the powders and herbs he grabbed, his lips moving in a tongue I don’t know.
I can’t catch most of his words over the hiss of the fire, and the storm beginning to crack across the sky.
I watch as his hand shakes the closer it gets to her chest. He paints a strange symbol over her skin. Not in any language I recognize.
When he’s done, he bends forward and lays his head in her lap.
She doesn’t flinch, but after a moment passes, her fingers twitch, just barely, against his hair.
Rage simmers low in my gut. Even sedated, she still finds a way to comfort him.
This moment should have been mine. That helpless, precious state she’s in? I gave her that. I crafted it with precision. I chose the dosage. I kissed the needle with calculation.
And he reaps it: the intimacy. The contact.
He breathes her in like oxygen and buries himself deeper into her legs—his shoulders quake.
Is he crying?
I don’t know what he vowed, but I know I hate the sound of it, even if I couldn’t understand it.
I watch for a long time, but his eyes never close. He doesn’t look away from her for even a single heartbeat.
There’s nothing for the mic to pick up now, and Lumi will be out for several more hours.
While she sleeps—I prepare.
Because if that symbol was a promise, then I’ll make one too.
She may fall asleep with him… but soon she’ll wake with me.
Lumi-
