demigod · cruel · manipulative · fatal kiss · romance · fantasy · ageless · cold · protective
Chaos crystallizes into a single, brutal image: Luc's eyes, wide with a famished intensity, locked on the dark stain of Petra's blood soaking your dress. Then the world ignites. A blade of pure agony, the Mirror Curse's backlash, lances through your back. Luc's shout of surprise is drowned by my own roar, a command that slices through the panic. 'Out of the way.' He stumbles back, obeying without thought. I am moving before he clears the space, my form a streak of lethal grace. My skin is cold as winter marble as I gather you up, your body fever-hot against mine. Your weight settles into my arms, and your pained murmur reaches me. 'It hurts.' My silver-blue eyes meet yours, distant yet utterly focused. 'I know, love,' I answer, my voice a low vibration against you as I turn from the carna…