Page 26

26

SEREN

W armth wraps around me, thick, cloying. Not the jungle. Not the damp, bloodstained earth of the dark elf encampment. The texture beneath my fingertips is smooth, familiar. Silk sheets, impossibly soft against my battered skin.

I am back.

The realization rips through me, dragging me up from the fog of unconsciousness. My breath hitches as pain laces through my ribs, deep bruises pulsing with every shift of my muscles. They beat me badly. Left their marks.

Yet, I am alive.

My fingers twitch, testing the boundaries of movement. A dull ache hums along my limbs, a reminder of my failure, my escape cut short.

The room stretches around me in flickering torchlight. Dark stone walls, high vaulted ceilings. Xirath’s chambers.

The weight pressing against my chest has nothing to do with my injuries.

He brought me back.

The sound of shifting movement echoes near the hearth. My pulse stutters, a violent contrast to the dull throbbing of my body. Xirath stands with his back to me, shoulders tense, the rigid posture of someone barely holding himself in check. His tail flicks once, slow and deliberate.

The beast is restless.

The realization sends something sharp through me.

I force myself upright, biting back a grimace. The sheets pool around my waist, the loose fabric of a fresh tunic brushing against my bruised arms. Someone, he had tended to my wounds.

Anger and confusion coil beneath my ribs, a wildfire waiting to consume.

"You should have left me there.”

His head lifts slightly, but he does not turn.

Silence thickens between us, heavy and suffocating.

Then his voice. “Foolish thing to say, considering you would be dead.”

“Better than being here.”

That does it.

Xirath faces me, molten gold eyes burning with something unreadable. His gaze sweeps over me, lingering on the bruises dotting my collarbone, the torn knuckles resting against the sheets.

"You think I should have let them have you?" The words slip from him like a blade drawn too slowly, too dangerously.

A muscle in my jaw tightens. "I think you should stop pretending you care."

His silence is worse than his anger.

His shoulders draw tighter, the sharp ridges of his scales shifting under the dim light. The flickering flames play along the length of his tail, a deadly, coiled thing against the stone floor.

His voice drops, low and deliberate. "I do not pretend."

Laughter slips past my lips, bitter and sharp. "No? What am I then, Xirath? A pet? A piece of property you refuse to lose?"

The question lands between us, heavy with something I cannot name.

His expression does not shift, but something in the air does.

"You are under my protection," he says, and the way he says it feels like a cage closing around my ribs.

The words ignite something violent inside me. Something that refuses to stay silent.

"Then why am I really here?" My voice rises, hoarse but unyielding.

He does not answer.

Heat licks along my spine, fury mixing with something deeper, something more dangerous. "You could have let me run. You could have let me die in that jungle. But you didn’t. Why?"

Xirath’s eyes flicker, jaw locking. The golden depths shift, something hidden beneath the surface.

"Tell me," I demand, fingers curling into fists. "What am I to you?"

His tail lashes against the stone, the sound sharp. "You would not understand."

"Try me."

His chest rises and falls in one slow, measured breath. A decision teeters on his tongue, a battle waged behind his gaze.

He speaks.

"I am searching for my mate to free me from my curse."

The words slam into me, stealing my breath away.

The weight of them settles, unfamiliar and cruel.

Mate.

Of course.

My fingers loosen, a hollow laugh spilling past my lips.

"Is that what this is?" I whisper, voice edged with something sharp, something I can’t name. "You’re keeping me here to what? Test me? See if I fit the mold?"

He does not deny it.

He does not confirm it.

I push off the bed, ignoring the pain lancing through my ribs. "Is that why you brought me back? Not because you wanted to, but because you still needed to check if I was?—"

"You are not my mate."

The words should not sting.

They should mean freedom.

Then why do they feel like chains?

I exhale sharply, forcing the tightness in my throat to unravel. "So what happens when you find her?"

Silence.

"Do you let me go?" I press, stepping closer. "Or do I remain caged in your grasp, just another failed attempt at breaking your curse?"

The flash of something dark in his expression makes my breath catch.

He does not answer.

He does not need to.

My heart pounds against my ribs, the space between us thick with something neither of us understand.

"Let me go, Xirath."

A low growl slips from his throat, vibrating through the room.

"You are not leaving."

Something inside me snaps.

"Then tell me why!"

Golden eyes burn through me, rage crackling beneath his skin. The tension between us swells, thick and suffocating.

Then his hands are on me.

The shift happens too quickly, the heat of his palms branding my skin as he yanks me forward.

His grip is firm, unrelenting, but his touch does not bruise.

My breath stalls, heart smashing against my ribs.

The space between us vanishes.

The growl rumbling in his chest sends a shudder through my bones. "Do you truly wish to test me, little mouse?"

Something shatters between us.

His mouth crashes against mine, brutal, demanding, unyielding.

Flames lick along my spine, heat pooling deep in my core. The kiss is not gentle, not sweet. It is a battle, a war of teeth and breath and unspoken fury.

I hate him.

I hate how his touch sets me on fire, how his grip tightens when I push against him.

I hate that I do not pull away.

His lips part, sharp fangs grazing my bottom lip. The taste of blood lingers, but I do not flinch.

His breath is ragged when he finally pulls away, forehead pressing against mine.

"You are mine," he whispers, voice torn between a promise and a threat.

I am drowning.