The words sank into me like hooks.
Hot, heavy.
My heart slammed against his hand.
“Lucian,” I said, not sure if it was a plea or warning.
His eyes were molten now, gold rimmed in shadow, focused entirely on me.
“You think this curse is my only weakness,” he said. “It’s not. You are. You make it quiet. You make the elders listen when they’d rather sneer. You walk into my nightmares and drag me out. And then you go and write letters to wolves who would love to see me on my knees.” His thumb brushed higher, along the edge of my jaw. “What am I supposed to do with that, except try to keep you where I can see you breathe?”
I swallowed.
“You’re not the only one who’s afraid,” I said, voice so soft I barely heard it. “Of them. Of the witch. Of… you.”
The last word came out on a whisper.
