Lucius POV
As he started to feel better, Drake sat up, groaning quietly as the last remnants of agony left his body. He looked like a corpse dragged out of hell — pale skin slick with sweat, veins still dark with the remnants of magical corruption. I could smell the burn of it, the tang of pain that clung to him like a shadow. Yet even in his weakened state, he had the audacity to look at me with that knowing gaze of his — the one that had always grated on me because he saw too much.
"You know?" he asked, voice hoarse, eyes cutting through me like he was confirming what we both already understood.
I didn't bother answering right away. He already knew I did. Of course I knew. I always knew. That connection he tried to keep hidden, that bond pulsing between him and her like a thread of molten power. I'd felt it the moment she came into my orbit — the faint echo of another's claim. It had taken everything in me not to rip him apart then and there.
