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“I’m going to—” The breath stole out of him; she knew he was close to shattering.

“Please.” The word … his voice … it was broken, almost debilitating.

It was then she noticed. Those icy fingers had pierced through the leather. Knuckles whitened to the point his skin threatened to split.

“Please,” he begged again. But he wasn’t begging for pleasure. This …thiswas pain.

Pulling her fingers away, Alora whipped her gaze to his face. It had gone ghostly pale. Hisentirebody was pale. In his eyes, the blackened abyss overcame every inch, snuffing out his enchanting silver.

And there was terror there. Unadulterated terror.

The hand on his chest suddenly recognized his thunderous heartbeat.

Panic flooded his features. His bodyconvulsedin shivers. “Forgive me … Alora.” Saying her name as if he were trying to convince himself of who he was with. It didn’t seem possible, but his skin fell another shade lighter. “I can’t—I thought I could—” he stuttered in a voice utterly unsettling.

Those hands hadn’t stopped their relentless hold.

The racing heart inside her chest cracked. Not for failing to bring him to completion, but for the humiliation in his expression. Warm palms fell to his cheeks, rubbing her thumbs in soft lines, shaking her head in concern and confusion as liquid lined his eyes.

“You deserve so much more than me.” She felt him shudder, the words like a blade through his heart. “I am nothing butherwh?—”

And before she could say anything, before he finished speaking, Smokeshadows whorled around them, turning her body into nothingness for a split second before she felt the chill of sheets toweling over her legs and her body returning to her born form.

A shadow stirred in the corner of her eye.

Not a shadow. Garrik. He had dawned to the door.

Raking his hand across his abdomen, plucking the fabric away, Smokeshadows slowly cascaded from his shoulders. Swirling around his neck and face when his eyes closed again, and he flattened a quivering palm to the wood.

Panic and confusion and a deep ache that she didn’t understand rippled through her body when he twisted the doorknob. Alora rushed to her knees and blurted, “Please, stay. You don’t have to leave. We can forget it all. Like nothing happened.”

Garrik’s chin lifted, and she watched him suffer a tortured breath. “That is just it, Ara…”

The door opened. He stepped into the hallway.

Peering over his shoulder, oblivion found her as he said, “I never want to forget this. But youmust.”

And the door closed behind him.

Rain pelted against the window, and a low rumble shook the bed. The pleasant aroma of the damp earth fluttered through the walls, stirring her awake. In a rising crescendo, the thunder grew. In the absence of lightning, she listened to it, felt the bed gently quaking with each roll.

It took her a few moments to collect her focus. To realize that Jade wasn’t sleeping feet away on a cot. And that wasn’t canvasher eyes were adjusting to but dreary walls. Limbs weightless, like the blood was waking and flowing back through her veins, Alora traced the reflection of raindrops from the window as the moon’s amethyst glow beamed onto the ceiling.

An icy chill trembled beside her.

Garrik.

He had returned sometime in the night, so quietly he didn’t wake her.

She lay still, ears strained to the crashing thunder that railed against the darkness. Tilting her head on the pillow, she settled intently on his face, every fiber of her being focused solely on him. The rise and fall of his chest. His unnatural heartbeat. The breathing a little too erratic to ever find rest or peace.

His eyes were closed—pressed tightly together—face twisted and teeth gritted, jaw set tight. A glimmer of sweat pebbled across his forehead. Garrik’s skin … utterly pale in the moonlight.

He trembled again. Harder this time.

And she felt his hand beside her move. An iron grip on the blanket he laid on top of.

Thunder cracked, violently spearing the rain into the window.