Page 161 of The Blood Rites

Kael watches me, hands resting on his knees. There is nothing in his face—no judgement, no sympathy. Only the abyss of his eyes and the steady rhythm of his breathing. I want to tell him to go away. I want to punch him. Scream at him—do anything that will make him hate me as much as I hate myself. But I have nothing left. Not even anger.

Instead, I turn away, curling in on myself, and try to disappear.

He moves closer, slow and cautious, like he’s approaching a wounded animal. He puts a hand on my back, the pressure feather-light. I tense, expecting a demand, or worse—gentle encouragement. But the hand just stays there, warm and protective. I hate him for it. I hate myself more for wanting it.

His uniform is clean. The scent of cinnamon clings to him. I flinch, but he doesn’t react, the heat of his body radiating through the thin layers between us.

After a while, he finally speaks.

“Don’t do that,” he says, quiet, but it lands like a hammer.

I don’t understand—

“Don’t disappear.”

He pulls me into his lap, but I am cumbersome and awkward. He doesn't try to adjust me, doesn’t care that it’s graceless. He just wraps his arms around me, caging me in place, chin resting on my head. There is nothing gentle about it; his grip is a vice, as if he’s afraid I’ll fall through the floor if he lets go.

The pressure is too much, and I start to tremble. I press my hands against his chest, trying to push him away.

“I don’t want this,” I croak.

The lie tears my throat apart. “I don’t deserve it.”

“You do,” he says, voice sharper now. “You do.”

My fingers dig into his shirt, twisting the fabric. I want to hurt him, make him understand. My voice breaks. “She was a child,” I spit. “I let her die. I could have—”

“Stop,” Kael growls, the sound vibrating through my body. “You did everything you could.”

“I was a coward,” I confess. I didn't do enough. I didn't act fast enough. I just stood there. Numb. Useless. Afraid.

“She fought till the end. Don’t take that away from her.”

His words hit like cold water, shocking me back to myself. I start to fight him, really fight, thrashing in his grip, but he’s stronger than me. He doesn't let me go.

“Let me go,” I gasp, “I can’t—”

His grip falters—just for a second.

“Don’t push me away,” he says, and there is a tremor in his voice. “Not now. We don’t have much time left.”

I go limp, breath catching in my chest. The exhaustion takes over, and my head falls forward onto his shoulder. I can’t remember ever feeling this drained. Not even after the worst days at the barracks. Not even after the other—

This is something deeper, like I’ve been hollowed out.

Kael holds me tighter, one hand stroking my hair, the other gripping the back of my neck like he’s trying to anchor me to the world. I can feel his pulse at his wrist, fluttering against my tear-stained cheek.

His eyes flick briefly to the walls. “It’s too quiet,” he mutters.

His hand tightens at the back of my neck, like he’s bracing for something that hasn’t happened yet. I don’t answer, because he’s right.

We stay like that for a long time. Eventually, the tears run dry, and I sag against him. Empty. Boneless.

He never moves.

When the shuddering in my chest finally calms, he loosens his grip, just enough so I can breathe freely. He tips my head up, and his face is right there, a hair’s breadth from mine. His eyes are softer than I have ever seen them.

“I can’t lose you,” he says, and it sounds like a secret he’s never told anyone.