“You’re a fool,” Cyan growls in my head for the hundredth time this morning. “A gods-damned fool, Nox.”I press the heel of my palm to my temple. The pain is back—sharp, stabbing, bone-deep. It comes in waves, a pulsing torment that doesn’t relent. My heart feels like it’s being wrung out by unseen hands, and every breath feels like I’m inhaling shards of glass.“You rejected our mate,” Cyan snarls. “The one we waited seven years for. Sweet, innocent Tamsin.”“Enough,” I snap aloud before I can stop myself. My voice echoes in the stillness of my office, curt and cold. Zara looks up from her place beside me on the leather couch, her fingers gently combing through my hair.“Headache again?” she asks, her voice low, sultry, threaded with concern.I nod and close my eyes, leaning into her touch like muscle memory. She always knows how to soothe me. Or used to, at least. Now, every stroke of her fingers across my scalp feels foreign. Like silk covering old scars—it’s soft, it’s warm, b
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