Chapter 8

Elowë's POV

I couldn't move.

My shadow. My own fucking shadow was holding me in place.

I looked down at my wrists. The darkness wrapped around them like hands, like fingers made of something solid. Not tight enough to hurt. Just tight enough that I couldn't pull away.

My ankles too. Pinned.

And my mouth. The shadow covered my mouth and I couldn't scream.

I heard footsteps behind me. Slow. Deliberate.

He walked closer. I could feel him getting closer even though I couldn't turn around to look.

Then he was in front of me.

Cassian.

His hand was raised. Not high. Just lifted slightly, fingers pointing down toward the floor.

I watched his fingers move. A tiny adjustment. A slight curl.

The shadow around my wrists tightened.

Another movement. His index finger flexed.

The shadow around my ankles squeezed.

Oh god.

It was him. He was doing this. He was controlling my shadow.

The realization should have shocked me. Should have made my brain explode all over again.

But it didn't.

I just... looked at him. Looked at his hand. Looked at the shadow wrapped around my body.

And I felt nothing.

Not shock. Not fear. Not even anger.

Just this weird, flat acceptance.

Maybe because my head was already too full. Maybe because I'd hit some kind of limit and my brain had just given up trying to process new information.

Vampires. Werewolves. Ash-bringers. Memory-wiping. And now shadow manipulation.

Sure. Why not. Add it to the list.

Cassian lowered his hand slightly. His eyes stayed on mine.

"You can't leave this room right now," he said. His voice was calm. Matter-of-fact. Like he was telling me the weather. "And there are people listening outside. It's better not to alert them."

I stared at him.

He paused. Then added, "If you understand, nod."

The pressure around my throat eased. Just a little. Just enough that I could move my head.

I nodded.

What else was I going to do?

He made a small gesture with his hand. A flick of his wrist.

The shadows unwound from my body. They slid off my wrists, my ankles, my mouth. Peeled away like they'd never been there.

I stumbled forward half a step. Caught myself on the door.

Then I turned around.

My shadow was back on the floor. Flat. Normal. Following the light from the chandelier like shadows were supposed to.

I looked at it for a long moment.

Then I looked back at Cassian.

My brain tried to form words. Failed. Tried again.

"So you're... a werewolf with superpowers?"

The words came out before I could stop them.

I knew it was wrong the second I said it. Knew I'd fucked up again.

His eyebrow lifted. Just slightly.

That look. That teacher-looking-at-a-student-who-just-gave-the-wrong-answer-for-the-third-time look.

"I have abilities," he said. His voice was still calm but there was an edge to it now. Each word very clear. Very precise. "But I am not a werewolf."

He looked at me for another second.

Then his expression shifted. Softened. Just a little.

"You've learned enough tonight," he said. "Your brain can't process any more right now."

I opened my mouth to argue.

Then closed it.

Because he was right.

My brain felt like soup. Hot, messy soup that had been stirred too many times and all the ingredients had turned into mush.

I couldn't think straight. Couldn't connect thoughts properly. Every time I tried to focus on one thing, three other things crashed into it.

Cassian walked past me. Headed toward the couch.

"You have a long time to figure all this out," he said. His tone was casual now. Like we were talking about a homework assignment or something.

A long time.

The words hit me like a brick.

A long time.

I was a prostitute. Well. I wasn't. But he thought I was. Or he'd bought me like I was.

And he was a client.

And he'd just said I had a long time.

A long time to figure things out.

A long time for him to... what? Enjoy me? Use me? Feed on me?

The last bit of energy I'd been holding onto just drained out of my body.

My legs went weak.

I felt my knees start to buckle.

The floor rushed up toward me.

Then an arm caught me.

Cassian moved fast. Faster than I could track. One second he was by the couch. The next he was right there, his arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest.

I didn't fight it.

Couldn't fight it.

I just let my weight sag into him. Let him hold me up.

I closed my eyes.

"Do whatever you want," I heard myself say.

My voice sounded far away. Flat. Empty.

"Drink my blood. Rape me. Whatever. I'm not going to fight anymore."

Silence.

I waited.

Waited for him to laugh. Or agree. Or just do it.

Waited for teeth in my throat or hands ripping at my clothes.

Nothing happened.

I kept my eyes closed. Kept waiting.

Still nothing.

Then I felt something.

A hand. Warm. Steady.

It pressed against my chest. Right over my heart. Palm flat against the barely-there fabric of this stupid dress.

The warmth from his hand sank through the cloth. Through my skin.

And then something else started.

A different kind of warmth. Not from outside. From inside.

It spread through my chest. Down my arms. Into my legs.

Not like body heat. More like... like something was fixing things. Repairing things.

I opened my eyes.

Looked down at my arms.

The cuts from the tree branches. The ones that had been stinging this whole time. They were closing. The edges of the wounds pulling together. Skin knitting back into place.

My legs. The ache in my muscles from running. From climbing. From fighting. It faded. Dissolved.

Even my face. The spot where that man had slapped me. The numbness, the faint throbbing. Gone.

I watched the last scratch on my forearm disappear. The skin smooth and clean like it had never been broken.

I looked up.

Cassian was watching me. His hand still pressed to my chest. His amber eyes steady on mine.

"Controlling shadows," he said quietly, "is not the only thing I can do. Bloodline abilities. Every pureblood has them. Some of us have more than others."

I stared at him.

I had absolutely no idea what that meant. But I nodded anyway, because my brain had already given up on asking follow-up questions tonight.

For a second, I didn't think anything. Didn't feel anything.

Just... existed. In this weird bubble of not-hurting. Of my body not screaming at me for the first time in hours.

It felt good.

It felt so fucking good I almost wanted to cry.

Then I heard it.

A thud. Muffled but loud. From outside the room.

My head jerked toward the door.

More sounds. Footsteps. Fast footsteps. Something heavy hitting something else. A shout, cut off halfway through.

It sounded like fighting.

Like people were fighting in the hallway.

Cassian's head turned. His eyes went to the door.

He didn't look surprised. Didn't look worried.

Just... aware.

"Kovas and the others have started," he said.

His voice was low. Almost like he was talking to himself.

But I heard it.

And my brain, even through the soup, caught on one word.

Started.

Started what?