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Remembered the quiet disappointment in his voice. The way he never needed to shout. The way every person he loved became another weapon placed against his throat.
“I cannot protect you.” The admission came out barely above a whisper.
Elarian stilled.
“And I will not watch him use you to punish me.”
A strange sadness crossed her face.
“You think pushing me away will make him spare me?” Tears clung to her lashes, and gods, he wanted nothing more than to reach out and brush them away.
“No.” He stepped closer. “I know it won’t. He will find you no matter what, Elarian. But if you leave now, it will make him believe I am still his.”
The words hung between them. Elarian stared at him, and for one horrible moment, Lucan thought she would obey.
Then her expression softened.
Gods, he fucking hated her for it.
“Don’t,” he growled.
Her brows drew together. “Lucan—”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” The obstinance in her voice cut him deeper than any rune carved into his flesh by Aurelion.
“Like I am still worth saving,” he whispered.
The silence afterward was unbearable. A tear slipped down her cheek before she quickly wiped it away.
“You are.”
Lucan’s throat tightened.
“No.”
“You are.”
“No.”
His shadows lashed outward, cracking against the stone walls. Elarian remained steady, that defiance he found utterly intoxicating burning bright in her gaze.
“I am nothing,” he whispered. The room shook. “I have spent five hundred years proving exactly what I am, and it is not something worth saving.”
Elarian stood slowly.
“You spent five hundred years surviving.”
His eyes flashed.
“Do not romanticize my suffering.”
“I’m not.” She stepped closer. “I am telling you I see you.”
Lucan’s control shattered. Before he could stop himself, his shadows surged forward, pushing her back against the wall.
“Do not.” His voice dropped. “Please. If you truly care for me, then do not make this harder than it already is.”
