Page 78 of Claimed By Stone
“I—I don’t know what’s happening,” I said, panic rising in my chest. “It wasn’t supposed to?—”
“Shh.” He was already moving, gathering me in his arms. “We’ll fix it. I swear it, Seraphina. I won’t let this happen.”
But deep down, I already knew.
It had begun.
Chapter 33
Thavros
The panic sat coiled beneath my ribs, sharp and hot, but I buried it. She didn’t need panic—she needed calm, strength. She neededme.
I knelt beside the bed, brushing her hair back with shaking fingers as I took her hand in mine. Her fingertips were pale. Too pale. Cold. I turned her hand over, and my gut clenched.
Stone.
A smooth, cool marble was all I found when I looked at her fingertips. It traced her nails, almost dainty in its cruelty, and was working its way up into her fingers and hands. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood, forcing the fear down deep.
“It’s alright,” I whispered, lying through my tusks. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”
She blinked up at me, dazed. “I’m so cold,” she said, voice barely a breath.
I moved without thinking, snatching the furs from the bench and wrapping them around her. Every scrap of fabric I could find, I piled over her trembling body. My hands trembled, but I tucked the blankets tight around her anyway, trying to outpace the creeping stone.
And then I broke.
“Don’t you fucking leave me,” I growled, the words torn from my throat like meat from bone. “Youpromisedto stay.”
Her eyes, gods, those eyes. She blinked, tears trailing down into her hairline. “I don’t want to leave you.”
Her words echoed back to the nights long ago when she would slip back into stone. That was not going to happen again. I wouldn’t allow it. Not now, not when she was mine.
I pressed my forehead to hers, my grip iron around her bundled form. The pulse of the bond between us was still there—dim, but present. That had to mean something. That had to mean she was still mine.
Sliding under the mound of furs, I held her tighter, like my arms could stop the spread, like I could outwill magic itself. The bond between us pulsed faintly—still there, but distant, flickering like a candle in a gale.
The stone was crawling up her forearms now, no longer delicate—it was hungry. Merciless.
“We were finally free,” I whispered, voice cracking as I pressed my forehead to hers, trying to memorize the feel of her skin before it vanished. “We were going to stay here. Then I was going to fill you with our children. Our days spent in my study with our books and the nights spent wrapped up in each other.”
Her lips trembled, and she leaned into my touch even as her limbs stiffened. “I wanted that too,” she whispered. “Still do.”
I closed my eyes, clutching her as if my body could be her anchor to this world.
Her voice in the war room—soft, stunned, alive.
The first time she touched me, it was tentative but real.
The glow of the crystal lit her face as I kissed her.
Her laughter during the New Year’s feast was carefree and beautiful.
The look in her eyes as she saidI love you.
The warmth of the woven ribbon as it wrapped around our hands, sealing the promise.
My throat burned.
