Page 321 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

That couldn’t be good.

Another breath. A hiss of resistance. Heat bloomed in my palm.

She was shaking her head. Denying what we both knew. I staggered, shoulder sliding down the glass as my knees gave way. I slumped to the floor, and she mirrored the motion, sinking down on the other side, her eyes never leaving mine.

That rune-etched hilt at her ribs caught my gaze.

She’d taken that blade from me that night on the roof.

A ragged laugh clawed up from somewhere deep. My feral little creature had kept my weapon like a trophy. That was oddly…comforting.

Tears streaked down her cheeks as she pressed her hand to the glass. I shook my head again, wishing I could touch her.

The respirator lit up red.

Fuck.

I tossed it aside and pressed my palm to hers, skin separated by a few inches of Godforsaken glass.

The loathsome emergency lights distorted her radiant face, and I hated them for robbing that from me. For a fleeting heartbeat, our reflections aligned—our faces merging into one fractured image.

Then she moved. Shaking her head. Screaming something I couldn’t hear. Snarling, canines bared in defiance as she drew back her fist.

No. She’d break.

The thud reverberated through the glass.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And then—the darkness came for me.

SIXTY

MA MOITIÉ

CYRUS

Whoosh...

Whoosh...

Whoosh…

My first thought was that the flow of blood in my ears sounded remarkably like the ocean.

The second was that someone had taken a mallet to my skull.

A breeze ghosted over my skin, the distant roar of waves growing more undeniable with every steady beat of my pulse.

Holy shit, I could feel my heartbeat—thudding in my temples, my fingertips, the tender pinch of skin where my neck was twisted awkwardly to one side.

Eyes flying open, I blinked up at a sunshine-yellow bedroom. French doors stood ajar, letting in salty air and light. Beyond them, a peeling white porch. Beyond that…ocean.

What the fuck?