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DAIN

L iora is inside me.

Not just her body, not just her scent clinging to my skin, not just the memory of her breathless moans from the night before.

Something deeper.

I feel her. Her thoughts, her emotions, the raw pulse of her magic woven through mine.

I cannot tear it out.

My claws curl, digging into my palms as I turn away from her. If I look at her now, I will break something.

The Purna woman from my past flashes in my mind, Amara.

Her voice, her power, the way she forced herself into my soul, the way she chained me with magic I never consented to. I realized I wanted to be away from her.

She bound me in ways I never understood.

Now this.

I whirl toward Liora, my voice slicing through the tension. “What have you done?”

She flinches, but not out of fear. No, she glares at me, chin lifting, eyes sparking with defiance. “Excuse me?”

My vision darkens. “Don’t play innocent. You feel it too.”

Her lips part, but no words come. Her pulse thrums wildly beneath her skin, a stuttering, uneven rhythm I can hear, feel.

She does feel it.

I take a step closer, towering over her, forcing her back until she hits the stone wall. I cage her in, pressing my hands beside her head. “Did you do this on purpose?” My voice is barely human, barely restrained.

Liora’s eyes widen, then narrow. She is not afraid of me.

She should be.

“I didn’t do anything,” she hisses, pressing against the wall as if it will swallow her whole. “You think I wanted this?”

I snarl. “You have Purna magic. You drank my blood. And now we’re connected. That isn’t coincidence.”

She shoves at my chest, but I don’t budge. “I didn’t bind us, Dain!”

“Then why can I feel you?” I demand, my breath hot against her skin. “Why do I know what you’re thinking before you say it? Why do I feel every pulse of your damned heartbeat as if it’s my own?”

Her lips part, her breath coming in sharp bursts. Her eyes flicker, not just with fear, but something darker.

I recoil, stepping back. No. No, this isn’t right.

Liora watches me, the fight draining from her face, replaced with something like… horror. “You think I did this on purpose?” she whispers.

Silence coils between us.

I cannot answer.

That is enough.

Her hands clench into fists. “You bastard.”

I say nothing.

She shoves me again, this time harder. “How dare you?”

I grab her wrist, stopping her next blow. My claws tighten, just enough to warn. “Don’t test me, Purna.”

She jerks back like I struck her. “Don’t call me that.”

I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But the word tastes right on my tongue, and I need to remind myself, remind her, that she is not mine.

Even if every instinct in me screams otherwise.

She trembles, anger vibrating off her. Her magic pulses in time with mine.

She is changing.

Her skin hums with something I cannot name. Her eyes, Gods, her eyes.

The dark flickers inside them.

Not shadow. Not death.

Something worse.

I step away. I do not let her see how my hands shake.

The air shifts.

A low tremor rumbles beneath us, like the ruins themselves are breathing. The walls seem to whisper, a voice curling against the edge of my mind.

Liora stiffens. “Did you feel that?”

Yes.

I grip her wrist before she can step forward. “We need to leave.”

She yanks away. “Not until you tell me what’s happening to me.”

I do not know. And that terrifies me.

The tremor deepens, rolling through the cavern. Dust rains from the ceiling. Something is here.

A voice.

It does not speak in words. It does not speak at all. It slithers into my mind, into my bones, into the very essence of what I am.

It knows me.

It knows her.

It calls her name.

“Liora.”

The sound is not sound. It is a wound in reality, a gaping, bleeding thing that makes my vision darken, my body stiffen.

Liora gasps, clutching her head, eyes rolling back. She staggers, falls.

I lunge, catching her before she crumples to the floor.

She shudders in my grasp, her lips trembling as she breathes out the only word that should never be spoken.

“Amara.”

My blood turns to ice.

The ruins groan around us, shadows bleeding from the walls, curling toward us, inching closer.

No. No.

I grab her. I do not think. I do not hesitate.

I run.