But I can’t do that anymore.
Pretending led me here.
To a cold hallway with the lingering feel of a demon prince's hands and lips all over me and my heart hurting as if someone stabbed me.
I press my hand over my pocket, over the object pulsing faintly against my palm to remind myself that he hid this from me. I can’t help my spiraling thoughts, they just keep coming. He probably didn’t even mean to get bonded to me. I bet that took him by surprise.
What if Kael is the villain of my story? And I’ve just given him my heart. It makes me feel sick, and I quicken my pace.
But villains never look like villains at first. They look like saviors or answers to your deepest desires. Like the thing you’ve been waiting for. A place to belong.
I slow at the end of the corridor, leaning against the stone wall as my breathing turns shallow. My reflection stares back at me from a hung mirror—rumpled clothes, haunted eyes, a girl who stepped into a story without reading the content warnings.
FORTY-SIX
KAEL
The spaceshe occupied is still warm when the door clicks shut, the sound far too final for how quiet it is. My shadows linger in the doorway for half a heartbeat before drifting back to me, restless and unsettled.
Empty.
I reach for our bond out of instinct. It’s dimmed—muted in a way I don’t like—and I don’t know if that’s because of distance or because she has the artifact. The one I was supposed to keep from her to protect her.
I fucked that up.
This is not good.
I dress quickly, movements sharp and efficient. If she won’t let me be near her, then I need someone shewillaccept. Raiden. Nolan. Either of them. They need to know everything—what the artifact is, what it can do, and how badly I misjudged the timing.
They need to protect her, while I can’t.
My chest tightens, panic pressing hard against my ribs.
I force a slow breath, dragging control back into place before my shadows do something reckless in their attempt to help. They ripple around the room, brushing the walls, the ceiling, the floor—searching for something.
No.
Someone.
“Idiot,” I mutter, the word meant entirely for myself.
Dorian warned me. He wasn’t even subtle about it.
And that artifact you carry? In her hands, it wouldn’t show her anything. It would open something. A path to her birthright.
A path to her birthright.
I had told myself I needed time. That she deserved the truth once I understood it fully. That if I told her too soon, she would rush toward something she wasn’t ready for.
And now she’s doing exactly that.
Without me.
I grind my teeth and grab my jacket from the chair, shrugging it on out of habit before the absence hits me. The weight is wrong. Too light.
She took it because she doesn’t trust me.
No.
