There’s a beat of silence, the air charged. Then she drops her gaze to the fish in my hand, a small trout still gleaming with water. Her stomach rumbles softly—my keen hearing picks it up. A flush colors her cheeks, and she folds her arms over her torso, as if to hide the sound.

“Here,” I say, offering the fish. She frowns, so I sigh. “Look, I’ll clean it. Then you can cook it.”

Her mouth twitches, and she gives a curt nod. Without another word, she stalks back to the fire. I watch her limping less than before—her ankle’s nearly healed, a testament to my meddling care. Part of me feels relief. Another part fears it means she’ll run the first chance she gets.

The day stretches outin slow hours. I scout the perimeter of the forest again, while Elyria tests her ankle with short walks near the tower. Sometimes I sense her behind me, observing me when she thinks I’m not aware. She’s still bitter about the collar,and every time she tries to wedge a sharp rock against the latch, I warn her about injuring herself. She scowls like a wounded animal.

Late afternoon finds us both by the stream. Elyria crouches on a rock, soaking the collar in cool water to wash the grime off the metal. I stand nearby, arms crossed, scanning the shadows. We speak little, but tension crackles between us like a live wire. Her eyes flick to me occasionally, and I catch the swirl of wariness and something else she tries to bury.

“Are you going to hover forever?” she finally snaps, turning to face me. A rivulet of water runs down her forearm, trailing to her fingertips. My gaze follows it, enthralled.

I force my eyes upward, meeting her glare. “Yes,” I answer simply. “I told you, I’m not letting you out of sight.”

She stands, water dripping from her collar, which glints in the dappled sunlight. “You’re stifling.”

A flash of anger edges my voice. “And you’re reckless. Do you think Ienjoybabysitting you?”

Her chin lifts. “Then stop. Let me go. We’ll see who’s reckless.”

My pulse leaps, but I refuse to let her see my uncertainty. “I can’t. It isn’t safe.”

She releases a harsh laugh. “Strange how you use that word. ‘Safe’ means freedom for me. Instead, I’m trapped in with a gargoyle who might snap my neck at any moment.”

The condemnation in her tone stings more than I want to admit. “If you truly believed that, you wouldn’t challenge me so often,” I say quietly, stepping closer.

She tenses, neck craning to look up at me—my height dwarfs her. “That’s not… I…” Her breath hitches, cheeks coloring. She tries to step back, but her heel skids on the wet stone. I lunge, steadying her with a hand on her elbow. The chain tugs betweenus, jingling ominously. Her eyes widen, lips parted in a silent gasp as she clutches my forearm.

Our faces are inches apart. I can feel her trembling, sense the rapid flutter of her heart. My instincts slam into me like a tempest:take her, devour her fear, claim her submission.But another voice whispers that I want her defiance, her fierce spirit. My claws flex against her arm, but I don’t hurt her. Heat coils in my gut as I taste the tension on the air.

“Careful,” I murmur, voice gritty.

She exhales shakily, trapped in my hold. “Let me go,” she demands, though her voice falters.

I loosen my grip, stepping away. Her eyes linger on me, a mix of panic and something that sparks deep in my chest. It’s the same turbulent swirl that’s been growing for days, each glare and taunt feeding it.What is this attraction?

She drags a hand across her mouth, as if wiping away the moment. “I’m going back,” she says, turning to limp toward the tower. “Don’t hover.”

I stand there, watching her. My breath remains ragged. “Fine,” I mutter under my breath. But I don’t follow immediately—my body is too keyed up, and if I remain near her, I can’t guarantee I’ll keep a leash on these wild impulses.

By the time dusk settles over the ruin, the air is thick with humidity. Storm clouds gather above the treetops, though no lightning splits the sky yet. Elyria is huddled by the fire, scraping the scales off another fish I caught earlier. She’s grown more adept at these survival tasks. Meanwhile, I’ve been pacing the outer perimeter of the tower, half-checking for intruders, half-arguing with myself to keep distance.

She looks up as I approach. The flames cast dancing shadows across her features, emphasizing the bruises that have mostly faded from her time in the fortress. Her hair clings to her temples in the muggy air, the silver streak catching the firelightlike a slender blade. My pulse thrums. We’ve barely spoken since our confrontation at the stream. The tension is a coil ready to snap.

I crouch across the fire, adding more wood. Sparks fly upward, illuminating the archway overhead. The hush between us is suffocating.

She sets the fish aside, wiping her hands on a rag. Her eyes flick to me. “Why do you keep pacing like a caged beast?”

A scoff leaves my throat. “Iamcaged, in a sense. I can’t leave you alone.”

She bristles. “Then unchain me.”

I rake a hand through my hair. “You know why I haven’t.”

Her lips tighten, but she doesn’t argue further. Instead, she stands abruptly. “I’m tired,” she mutters, turning away. I watch her head to the makeshift sleeping area we fashioned with moss and cloth. She sinks onto it, wincing slightly.

A flash of lightning glimmers in the distant sky, though thunder doesn’t follow. My entire body is wired, every muscle coiled. My gaze keeps drifting to Elyria’s hunched shoulders, to the way her collar glints as she draws a ragged breath. I sense her frustration, her confusion, an echo of my own.

I can’t stand it anymore. I move, crossing the short distance to her makeshift bed. She lifts her head in alarm. “What do you want now?” she demands, voice taut.