Page 55 of Too Dangerous To Die

I took too much.

I fed on her magic like a beast. A curse meant to starve me, twisted into something worse. Something parasitic.

“Gods,” I breathe, brushing her hair back. “Nora?—”

She hums in response, curling into my side like a child seeking warmth. She doesn’t even realize it yet.

But I do.

I am stronger now—more whole than I’ve felt since the moment she awoke me.

But it wasn’t a gift. It was theft. Beautiful, necessary, monstrous theft.

I wrap my arms around her tighter, guilt gnawing at the edges of my elation.

She gave herself to me freely. I didn’t ask. I didn’t force her.

But I still took.

And the most dangerous part is, I know I’ll want to take again.

She is in me now. Permanent. Irrevocable.

And if I’m not careful… I will consume her completely.

25

NORA

The ruins still smell like ash and lightning.

My skin aches. Not due to pain, but from him—from the searing imprint of his touch, from the fire that burned through both of us and left nothing untouched. I’m sore in places I didn’t know could feel sore. And beneath that, something deeper thrums—an echo of his magic now tangled with mine, coiled like smoke in my bones.

I sit up slowly, wrapping my arms around myself. My body feels too light, like I’ve lost weight overnight. No, not weight.Something else.Something vital. I don’t know what exactly. Just that it’s gone—and he has it now.

Rhaegar sits across the room, silent, shirtless, half-shrouded in the shadow of a cracked pillar. His wings are tucked tight, his jaw clenched like he’s been chewing on guilt for hours and hasn’t yet decided to spit it out.

I stare at him.

He doesn’t look at me.

Coward.

“You’re awfully quiet for someone who just tried to set the ceiling on fire with sex magic,” I say, my voice still raspy from everything we didn’t say last night.

His eyes flick to me, molten gold and stormy.

“You almost died,” he says flatly.

I arch a brow. “Well, so did you. Frequently. Repeatedly. With enthusiasm, if I recall.”

“That’s not what I meant.” His voice sharpens, cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Then say what you mean,” I snap, standing. The blanket slips off my shoulders, and I don’t care. He’s already seen everything. Taken everything.

His gaze drops, then lifts again like he’s forcing himself to meet my eyes. “You’re weaker. I took too much.”

I laugh. It’s not soft. It’s not kind. “Congratulations. You finally admit it.”

---