“And how exactly are you so familiar with pain?” heasked cautiously and I chuckled softly. “You do not ask questions about me,” I mocked, and he glared at me for a moment. But I feared he could see straight through me. To every scar that marked my soul.
“Hold on to me.” His voice vibrated through me, and I tightened my grip. I barely had time to inhale before the world unravelled. The air around us collapsed. It wasn’t like falling or even moving. It was like being unstitched, each thread of my body pulled into darkness and reformed somewhere else, somewhere in between. Cold rushed over me like water. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. The world turned inside out. I could see nothing, but I felt everything. Wind that didn’t blow. Screams that didn’t sound. A thousand shadows brushing against my skin like fingers. It was cold and burning and nothing at all. And then, impact.
We landed hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. Shadows tore from around us, from within me. My stomach flipped. My vision spun. I clutched him tighter, trembling. I blinked and the trees were no longer skeletal and looming, the air no longer thick with rot and whispers. Instead, the firelight from camp flickered just ahead, warm and familiar.
“You are okay,” he murmured, his voice rough and oddly soothing. I wanted to believe him.
Twenty-Seven
Surrender
Iclung to the Commander. My head spun and my stomach churned viciously. His hand was still splayed across my thigh, holding me as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go. But suddenly, I needed him to. Desperately. The spinning, the pressure, the taste of my own blood still thick in my mouth was too much. My stomach twisted, bile lurching up my throat.
“Put me down,” I rasped, squirming against him.
He looked at me sharply, dark curls falling just above his strong eyebrows that drew together. “Lyra?—”
“Put me down!” I snapped, pushing at his chest with what little strength I had. The moment my boots hit the dirt, my knees buckled. I stumbled away from him with my hands pressed against my stomach. I heaved violently and the world spun. My body bent in half as everything inside my stomach tumbled onto the ground. It splattered against the dirt in hot, acidic waves. My hair fell forward, clinging to the sweat on my face. I was painfully aware of the Commander standing mere feet away from the mess that I was.
When the retching finally stopped, I wiped my mouth with the back of my trembling hand and staggered a few steps away from the mess. My entire body felt scraped raw.
“Don’t say anything,” I warned without looking at him.
He didn’t, but I could still feel him watching me. I turned just enough to glance back at him. Shadows flickered at the edges of his form like they were tethered to him by emotion alone. His eyes were unreadable. But he looked… tense. Coiled. But not from disgust. From restraint. I wondered if feeding from me had affected him as well. I wrapped my good arm around my torso, trying to hold myself together through the unbearable pull of his venom and the dizziness.
“Sorry, that was… disgusting,” I muttered.
The Commander chuckled, low and dark. “A normal reaction after shadow jumping for the first time.” I looked up, but before I could speak, my knees gave out. The world tilted. He vanished into a rush of shadow and reappeared just in time to catch me. His arms wrapped around me, solid and sure and I let my fingers trail along the edge of his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble. My hand slid into the dark curls at the nape of his neck, tangling softly. I imagined tugging them. Arching beneath him. Pulling him closer?—
“Please, stop.” His voice was husky and strained as his eyes darkened.
Voices cut through the trees, reminding me that the world existed outside ofhim.
“Try to behave, Little Drownling,” he murmured under his breath. “I’m not the only one who can scent you.”
I blinked up at him, dazed and confused.
“Well, what do we have here?” Solas’s voice was all drawl and amusement as he walked towards us. Cerilla followed behind him, her eyes narrowing immediately.
The Commander lowered me slowly to the ground, gently setting me on my feet. A sound of protest slipped from my lips, my fingers clinging to his skin. I didn’t want to let go. My legs barely held. Cerilla crossed her arms, her sharp gaze flicking from me to her brother, then to the way I leant into him, flushed and trembling.
“Well,” she said dryly. “That explains the scent.” She stepped closer, eyes dropping to my wrist. Her lips thinned. Cerilla sighed, rubbing her temple. But then her gaze dropped, to the puckered mark across his abdomen. Her breath caught. She tilted her head, her dark eyes assessing. Then her attention shifted back to me. “You used your blood to save my brother, didn’t you?” Her voice was different now, no longer sharp. As though she couldn’t quite believe what I had done.
I nodded, wrapping my hands back around the Commander. The only thing grounding me in the haze of his venom was the throb of his heartbeat beneath my hand.
Cerilla was suddenly in front of me, throwing her arms around me. No hesitation. No revulsion at the gore slicking my skin, or the blood soaking the small amount of clothing I wore. She simply held me, as if I were something fragile and fading, and she wasn’t willing to let me slip away.
“Thank you for not letting him die,” she whispered. I felt the words against my temple more than I heard them.
She pulled back, her face shadowed but no longer distant. Carefully, like I might break, she reached up and tucked a strand of silver hair behind my ear. The tenderness of the gesture and the rawness in her voice undid something deep inside me. I blinked, tears threatening.
“See?” Solas grinned at me from behind Cerilla. “I knew that you liked us.”
“Come, darling, let’s get you healed,” Cerilla murmured, reaching out her hand to me.
I stared at it for a moment, then lifted my gaze to the Commander. My hand trembled as I reached for him instead, silently pleading. With a quiet sigh of exasperation, he slid his arms beneath me and lifted me effortlessly against his chest.
“I’d almost forgotten how strong the post-feeding lust can be,” Solas muttered from in front of us, his voice tinged with amusement. “But that scent isstrong.”
