Eira's pov
I couldn't sleep.
Not because of the nightmares. Not because of the cold stone beneath my back or the stale air suffocating the room. But because the images wouldn't stop flashing behind my eyes.
Kira. Draven. The sound of his voice,low, ragged. Her laughter, breathless.
God knows how long they were at it. All night? Until dawn? I didn't wait to find out. I couldn't. The longer I stood there, rooted to the floor like a fool, the more I felt something inside me decay. Rot. Die.
My stomach twisted with nausea and rage, a bitter cocktail that coated my throat. I wiped at my face, though there were no tears. Not yet. Just that choking dryness in my chest. Like I'd swallowed ash.
I should've known.
Of course, I should've known. I was never his. Not really. Whatever softness he showed me,those moments of silence, that fleeting protectiveness, the way his eyes sometimes lingered on me like I meant something,they were all illusions. Distractions.
