Page 206 of Claimed By Fangs and Darkness

I frowned. She must’ve been running warm as her body recovered.

As she slept, I answered correspondences with allies across the realm, updating them on our progress in Etherdale and mapping out information from their own updates.

My mind was doing what it did best—synthesizing, finding patterns, and converting it all into predictions and courses of action. Blade and I were rapidly scrawling notes to each other, our usual dance of scheming.

At a certain point, exhaustion won, and I dozed for a necessary few hours. Between states of dreaming, I saw Evie giggling in the mirror hours after Aster had ripped out our blood bond and had her chained to his bed.

I woke up gasping for air, and Evie was quick to twist in my arms. She peppered me with sweet kisses, her hand trailing down my chest.

Her touch was soothing to my overworked mind and depleted body.

“I love you,” I dreamily whispered as I ran a hand through her hair.

She shuddered. Her hand slipped lower.

At first, her small fingers curling around my cock had its expected effect. My groan was breathy, and she sighed contentedly. My shadows reached for hers.

They hit up against the strangest cold emptiness. A chill crawled down my spine, some preconscious intuition jolting me awake.

I grabbed her wrist. “Not yet, angel.”

She yanked her hand back. Her eyes flashed hurt.

“Are you feeling okay? You were feverish, and I still don’t feel your shadows. What did they do to your magick, sweet girl?”

Evie’s hurt expression transformed swiftly into anger. At first, I thought she was reliving the borns’ torture, but then she recoiled fromme.

“What if they never come back? Will you still love me?”

I frowned. “Of course, Evie. I love you foryou.Not your magick. I love you for your soul.”

Did she really think her magick was gone for good? What the hell had happened? My inner monologue was halted by the sight of Evie throwing the covers off her, grabbing a marble candle holder from the bedside table, and slamming it against the full-length mirror by the dresser.

My mouth fell open. The mirror shattered. Evie screamed, raging and wounded.

I swiftly grabbed the candle holder from her flailing arm and pulled her away from the shards of glass.

“Shhh.” I stroked her hair, pulling her into my lap as she shook. “You’re safe, baby. I will love you forever. You’re safe.”

I rana hand through my hair as I approached Harmony, Blade, Idris, Vesper, and Clarke at Harmony’s dining room table.

Idris rose. “Where is she? Why has she been avoiding me?”

I shook my head. “She should be here soon. And I don’t know, Idris, but I’m worried about her. Terribly worried. She hasn’t been herself since her rescue.”

“What do you mean?” Idris asked.

“It’s difficult to explain,” I said. “Her moods are unstable. She’s shown no interest in what previously mattered to her—namely, being involved in war efforts. I was happy to see her reading again, but I suspect that’s just another trauma response.” Reading was probably the only way she could escape the horrors of what she’d endured. “Her magick has been stifled somehow, and the only time she was able to use it, she coughed up blood. I don’t know. I think she needs a bit more time.”

What I didn’t say to Idris or the rest of the group was that for the first time since Evie and I had met, I didn’t feel like I understood her. All I could do was be patient. I reminded myself that these were all signs of trauma.

Guilt was a ghost that haunted me everywhere I went. The only time I could breathe easier was when I was on the battlefield, forced to let everything go but the kill in front of me.

“Earlier today, I caught her stomping on flowers in her own garden,” I continued, my voice low. “They’d wilted, and she was frustrated, maybe. Supernatural wind pushed her back, and she?—”

I stopped myself, feeling weird about sharing Evie’s post-traumatic behavior with people without her permission. Evie was throwing these tantrums I’d never seen from her before, likeshe’d been triggered back to the wounded inner child, the part of her that had been harmed and abandoned by her parents.

Idris’s brows lifted, his face shifting through shades of surprise and confusion. “Wilted?” he asked. “And she was destroying her own?—”