I shook him, a sharp gasp of a sob tearing from my throat. I clenched my teeth, biting back the emotion, refusing to accept that he was gone. “Wake up, Zevander! Wake up!” I shook him again, harder, my voice splintering beneath a wretched pain that threatened to tear me open. Still, he didn’t move. Didn’t gasp for breath. His skin grew colder, his face, paler.
