Mine. Fucking mine.

The word echoed in my mind: relentless and consuming. She was mine. Always had been. It always would be. And yet…that wasn't entirely true, was it.

A low snarl reverberated through my thoughts, Shade sharing my senses. His fury bled into my own. “He was all over her,” he growled.

Then the scent hit me, too. Prince Darrin’s stench, vile and suffocating, clung to her. The strongest trace was between her legs.

Rage flooded through me, shattering my control. My teeth sank deeper into her neck, harsher than I intended. She let out a weak moan, her paralysis fading just enough for her to feel it.

Instant regret washed over me. I loosened my bite, gently rubbing her back to apologise without words.

“I’ll make him regret even breathing near her,” I vowed silently, the promise dark and absolute.

Shade’s voice cut through my thoughts, low and ominous. “While this is admirable, boy, you know the cost of this bond. It is too high a price. You do not know what you’re asking of me, of this girl, and of yourself.”

“I didn’t have a choice then, and I don’t have a choice now,” I snapped back in my mind, the frustration boiling over.

Shade growled. His anger is a powerful and dominating force in my mind and body. “I have lived many lifetimes, and none dared act as recklessly as you.”

“Would you rather I let her die and transform into a vampire’s breeding mare?” I shot back, my voice trembling with raw emotion.

Shade fell silent, but his disapproval was evident, it loomed like a dark cloud, heavy and suffocating.

Her blood tasted sweeter as the venom faded, but the weight of my actions crushed me. Her limp body pressed against mine, a haunting reminder of how close she was to death. The stakes were higher than ever. Failure was not an option, and Shade and I were in rare agreement.

“You are almost there,” Shade urged, his voice dark but steady. “You will save her with just a few more pulls. Do not fail her now.”

I fought through the exhaustion and nausea, clinging to the last reserves of my strength. Every ounce of energy I had left was for her.

When her head fell limp, her breaths shallow, I knew time was running out.

One more pull.

Then another.

And finally, one last gulp.

“It’s enough,” Shade murmured, his voice softer now, almost resigned. “She can fight the transition on her own now.”

I loosened my grip on her, my arms trembling with fatigue. Her fate was no longer in my hands. All I could do now was hold her close and pray that she had the strength to come back to me.

I let out a shaky breath, the sound ragged and unsteady as it escaped my lips. My chest felt tight, my breaths uneven as though the weight of the world had pressed down on me during the agonising moments of cleansing her. Each beat of my heart reverberated through my entire body, a painful reminder of how close I had come to losing her. I cradled her closer, my arms instinctively wrapping around her fragile, near lifeless frame as if I could shield her from the torment she’d endured.

Her body was unnaturally still, unnervingly cold. The warmth she always carried—the vibrant fire that had drawn me to her—was now a faint ember, flickering perilously close to extinguishing. I whispered her name softly as though speaking it aloud could tether her to this mortal plane–to me. But no response came, only the shallow rise and fall of her chest, fragile and uncertain.

The venom was gone. I had done what I could. I had pushed my body, my will, and my very soul to their limits to cleanse her, but now, it was no longer in my hands. It was up to her to fight, to find her way back from the precipice of death.

The quiet was suffocating, filled only with the faint rustle of the ruined cottage around us and the erratic sound of my own breathing. My mind raced with thoughts of what I should do next. Should I find a healer? Should I get her somewhere safe? My instincts screamed to move, to act, but I couldn’t bring myself to let go of her. Not just yet.

She felt so small in my arms, so vulnerable, and it tore through me like a blade. I tightened my grip, burying my face into the crook of her neck. Her scent lingered faintly beneath the lingering stench of venom and blood, grounding me and reminding me of who she was. Who she could still be if she survived.

I pressed my lips to her ear, my voice breaking through the silence with a soft, low murmur. “You are strong, Az. You will survive this.” I said the words both for myself and for her. My voice was steady, soothing, but on the inside, I was a maelstrom of chaos and fear.

The words hung between us, a fragile thread of hope amidst the storm. Speaking them aloud felt like an act of defiance against the darkness threatening to consume her.

Her body remained limp, but I refused to believe she was gone even as her breathing shallowed and the pauses between them stretched. Not yet. Not her. Azalea was a fighter, the fiercest I’d ever known. She had faced horrors before and stood tall. She would do it again.

“Come back to me,” I murmured again, my voice trembling with a vulnerability I rarely allowed myself to show anymore. The faintest breath of air escaped her lips in response, shallow and weak but enough to remind me that she was still there. Still fighting.

The weight of the moment bore down on me, heavy and unrelenting, but I refused to crumble. She needed me to be strong, to hold on to her. So I stayed there, cradling her in the shattered remnants of the cottage, waiting, hoping, willing her to come back to me.

Because without her, there was nothing. I was no one.