Page 107 of Claimed In Darkness

She does not shake.

She just stands there, calm, collected, as if none of this matters.

As if she is not even trying to hide what she is becoming.

As if she already knows.

When she speaks—her voice is too quiet, too knowing, too goddamn sure.

"You’re staring."

Words elude, and I can’t formulate the words to explain what I’m feeling. Fearing.

I do not trust what will come out of my mouth if I do.

I take a step toward her and she stays.

Does not shift like she once would have, like she once did every time I got too close.

Now, she is the one in control.

I could grab her.

Could shake her, drag her back, force her to tell me what the fuck is happening inside her.

But something in my chest—something cold, something primal—tells me that if I do, she might kill me.

She might not even hesitate.

A slow, sharp breath scrapes through my throat, my hands clenching at my sides, my pulse beating too slow, too heavy.

"What did you do?"

The words leave me like a fucking curse.

Her head tilts just slightly.

A small shift.

A predator considering its prey.

"I saved you."

A simple answer.

A cold one.

A lie.

This was not about me.

Never. This was about her.

What she had to become to do it.

I wonder if I have made something that even I cannot control.

I can feel it now.

---