ELISA'S POV.
I wrapped my arms around myself, gripping tightly, as if that could shield me from the way his words crawled under my skin. “You’re wrong,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I’m not yours. I can’t be. I don’t belong to anyone, but myself, Azrien. Get that into your thick skull.”
For the first time, a flicker of something almost pained crossed his expression. His jaw clenched, his eyes darkened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out hesitantly, almost carefully—and brushed his fingertips against mine. Just a whisper of contact, but it sent a jolt through me that I instantly hated myself for feeling.
“You can tell yourself that, Serenya,” he murmured, his voice rough. “But one day, you’ll know the truth. You'll remember.”
It took me time to recorgnize what he just called
