Page 118 of The Blood Rites

His mouth tightens into a sharp line. “He’s not wrong. Bright light is a danger to the Shadowborn. We live under artificial light, but I’m sure Nyxen already told you that.” He gestures vaguely. “The Shadow Dominion hasn’t seen true sunlight in a long time. It blinds us.”

I want to know how he has managed to survive the trials so far, but I’m scared to know the answer.

“My father has training methods for every Shadowborn weakness,” he says, as though reading my mind.

“I won’t let them kill you,” I say, surprising myself with the vehemence in my voice.

He snorts. “You make it sound like you have a choice.”

I cross the room and sit beside him on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips, pulling our bodies closer until our knees touch.

There is the smallest tremor in Kael’s hands. I cover one with mine, and he looks at it like it’s a puzzle he can’t solve.

“I’m not afraid to die,” he says. “But I can’t lose you, either. I can’t explain it.”

It’s the most honest thing I’ve ever heard from him, and it stuns me for a second.

I want to laugh, to break the tension, to crawl into his arms and never leave. I’m so tired.

Instead, I squeeze his hand. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

I think of the last time he kissed me before I can stop myself.

He turns suddenly, the movement so quick I flinch. He’s so close our noses are almost touching.

His breath is warm on my mouth. “You’re a danger to me, Luceris Navin,” he whispers. “Do you know that?”

I want to answer, but the words are trapped in my throat. All I can do is nod.

He brings his lips to mine slowly, giving me time to refuse.

I don’t.

The kiss is hesitant at first, then grows hungrier. I taste blood and salt, and the ache of everything waiting for us.

His hands go to my shoulders, pulling me in. I let him. I want to disappear into him, if only for a moment.

He deepens the kiss, and when his tongue presses against mine, I open for him. The sensation is almost too much. Heat tears through me so fast I can’t separate want from panic.

I don’t know when I start trembling. I just do.

He pushes me down onto the bed, his body a solid weight over mine, a shield and a threat at the same time. His hands move over me, fingers tracing my ribs, my hips, my thighs. I feel safe. Wanted.

I gasp as he slides a hand under my shirt, palm flat against my stomach.

I want to say stop, or slow down, or please don’t hurt me, but I don’t want to break the moment. I tell myself I can handle this. That I can be whatever he wants.

He finds my wrists and pins them to the mattress, gentle but firm.

His fingers tighten around my wrists.

My breathing hitches.

And then it hits.

Panic, sharp as a knife at my throat.

My vision narrows, the world tilting, going fuzzy at the edges. My heart hammers, but not with excitement. This is fear.