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ERYSS

I am going to kill him.

The heavy door slams shut, the deep clank of metal seals locking me in. The arrogant, insufferable, domineering bastard locked me in his chambers. His bedroom. I whirl, throwing my weight against the door, pounding my fists on the unyielding stone.

“You son of a— LET ME OUT!”

My screams go unanswered. No footsteps. No growling threats. Not even a mocking retort from the guards who I know are stationed outside. I shove my shoulder against the door, testing the hinges. The powerful wards woven into the walls shimmer faintly in response, their presence pressing against my skin, as if the room itself is watching me.

I am trapped.

Again.

My breaths come hard, sharp. Rage coils through my gut, hot and unwieldy. He caged me once in his fortress, let his warriors throw me to the ground, let them beat me just to test my mettle. Then he let me roam. He let me fight beside him. And now, after everything, I’m back to being his prisoner.

I storm to the window, fingers gripping the iron lattice, testing its strength. Solid. Immovable. The way out is sealed, every shadow in this cursed room laced with his control.

That bastard. That overbearing gargoyle bastard.

Time passes. I pace. I plot. I seethe.

When the door finally creaks open, I lunge before I can stop myself, ready to sink my nails into his throat, but it isn’t Naranus who steps through.

Thryx stands there, his usually smug face drawn tight, his arm supporting a massive, staggering form.

Naranus.

I freeze.

He looks wrecked.

Blood, fresh and dark, seeps from his shoulder, staining the leather of his armor, his normally imposing stance off-balance. His wings hang limp, tattered from battle, his jaw clenched against what must be searing pain.

Thryx exhales hard. “He needs a healer. The stronghold’s is injured.” His sharp gaze lands on me. “You will help.”

The demand ignites my fury all over again. “You want me to help the gargoyle who just locked me up like some fragile little?—”

“Eryss, human,” Thryx snaps, his voice cutting through my rage like a blade. “He fought Drenir.”

Something in my chest tightens.

Naranus shifts, head tilted back against the wall, as if staying upright is a struggle. His molten eyes find mine, and despite his state, bleeding, wounded, half-broken, he smirks .

“Still trapped , purna?” His voice is a gravel-dipped rasp, deep and rough. “Pacing like a caged beast?”

I want to slap him. I want to shake him for getting himself into this state. Instead, I grind my teeth and jerk my gaze to Thryx.

“What do you need?”

Thryx hands me a satchel filled with healing herbs and poultices. “Apply the paste to his wounds. Stop the bleeding. That’s all. ” His look sharpens. “Unless you’d rather let him die .”

I glare at him. “Don’t tempt me.”

But I step forward, my fingers curling around the satchel. I kneel beside the massive, bleeding idiot who still has the gall to smirk at me despite the gashes in his skin.

Carefully, I dip my fingers into the herbal paste, the sharp scent of crushed roots and moss filling my senses. I press it against the deepest wound, his shoulder. His body tenses, his abs flexing under my hand, but he makes no sound.

I try not to notice the way his heat sears into me. The way his chest rises and falls beneath my fingertips. The way his scent, dark, rich, laced with something untamed, lingers too close to my skin.

His voice is low, rough. “You’re gentle , purna.”

I scowl. “Shut up.”

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t fight me.

I work in silence, pressing the salve into every wound, each slow pass of my fingers revealing the extent of his injuries. And that’s when I see it.

The cracks .

They’ve spread.

Not just from battle wounds. Not just the bruises and slashes marking his body. No, these are something worse .

They glow faintly beneath the surface of his skin, fractured lines of light running along his forearms, curling over his ribs. As if his body is breaking . As if something inside him is tearing apart, piece by piece.

I swallow hard. “This…this is the curse, right?”

His eyes flicker open, molten gold locking onto me. He watches me, unreadable, his gaze tracking my movements, my careful touch.

I hadn’t even realized I was being careful.

Before I can pull away, his hand snaps up, fingers locking around my wrist.

I suck in a sharp breath.

“Stay,” he rasps.

I shake my head. “I?—”

He tugs, and I lose my balance, toppling onto his chest with a muffled curse.

Heat pours from him, his body solid and unyielding beneath mine, his grip still tight on my wrist. I struggle, trying to push up, but he’s too strong , even injured.

“Let. Me. Go,” I hiss.

He doesn’t. Instead, his head tilts, his nose brushing along my throat, inhaling deep. My breath stops .

His voice is hoarse. “You smell like fire.”

My entire body shudders.

He shifts beneath me, his legs trapping mine, his arm curling around my waist, locking me against him. Caging me.

I shove at his chest, but my strength is useless against his sheer mass . “Naranus.”

His response is a low, guttural sound of contentment.

“Stop. I?—”

“Stay.” His grip tightens, his words a command that rumbles through my bones.

I should fight him. I should shove my dagger into his side, break his hold, remind him who I am .

But I don’t.

I freeze .

Slowly, far too slowly, my body betrays me.

The heat of him, the steady rhythm of his chest, the strength beneath my fingertips, it lulls me. Encloses me in warmth I haven’t felt in so long.

My breathing evens out. My muscles loosen.

His grip doesn’t falter. His warmth doesn’t fade.

Before I can think about it, before I can fight , my eyes slip shut.

I fall asleep, on top of my captor .