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Horrifying.

The relic is inside me.

I stagger back from the basin, my breath coming too fast, my skin crawling.

The relic was a binding artifact, a thing meant to consume.

And when I broke it, when I offered my blood to save him, it must have?—

No, I can’t think about this.

Not with him still sleeping in the other room, his body tangled in sheets that still smell like us.

Like his sweat, his mouth, his hands gripping my hips, holding me still as he took what he wanted, as I let him, as I fucking wanted him to.

I dig my nails into my palms.

Hard enough to hurt.

Harsh enough to drag me back to reality.

I can’t let him know.

Not until I figure out what this means.

If he realizes that I am what’s keeping him alive, that I am the price of his salvation?—

I don’t know if he’ll save me or fucking destroy me.

I force my body to move, turning from the basin, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs.

I step back into the bedroom.

Zephiran is awake.

He’s propped on one elbow, his gaze locked on me, unreadable, dark.

His hair is still a mess, falling into his face, his lips slightly parted, like he had been about to say something before he stopped himself.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room is our breathing.

Slowly, his gaze drags down my body.

Not lustful. Nor hunger. In calculation.

He sees something.

Maybe the way my shoulders are too stiff.

Perhaps in the way I am standing just a little too carefully or with my fingers curling into fists, hiding the way they are trembling.

His eyes narrow slightly.

"Naira," he says, voice low, edged with something sharp.

I keep my mouth shut.

If I say something, I don’t know what will spill out.