Page 115 of Claimed In Darkness

The words come out too fast, too sharp, too desperate.

Her lips part slightly, and for the first time in days—she almost looks surprised.

She laughs.

Not soft.

Not warm.

Definitely not her.

A sharp, hollow noise, cutting through the night, through every part of my soul, through every fucking lie I have told myself up until this point.

I loathe myself for being the one who put it there. For being too late to realize what I’m loosing.

Her fingers twitch beneath mine, a slow flex, a testing of pressure.

She leans in.

Not enough to touch.

But enough to let me feel her breath against my throat.

It’s enough to remind me of every moment we have ever burned for each other.

Every time we have destroyed each other.

Every second I have wanted to consume her just as much as she has wanted to consume me.

Her voice is barely a whisper as she says, "Lie to me again, Zephiran."

I swallow hard.

Is this a test? Does she just want me to pull her back.

Or if she just wants to see if I will break first.

I force my voice to stay steady, to not betray the fucking war happening in my chest.

"You’re fine," I say again.

And this time—I almost believe it for my survival.

To keep her.

I can still pretend that I did not fucking ruin her.

She leans back, slow, calculated, those sharp, knowing eyes never leaving mine.

She should be angry.

She should call me on my bullshit.

She should tell me that she knows I am lying to myself just as much as I am lying to her.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she raises her head slightly, that slow, mocking smirk pulling at her lips again.

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