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“Cry, Amalia,” Rurik said, in his human form rather than his scaly one. He pulled her tighter. “It’s fine.”
He wanted them on the same level so they could suffer together, by themselves. However, he thought his desire may not be just because of the way she looked. There was something else about her that drew his attention.
“Why should I... when I have you?” She smiled for him, but her words made him tilt his head. The scales around his face turned a brighter shade of purple.
“I fear pain.” She met his eyes with unwavering doubt. “I fear the agony of flames, I fear the stab of a knife, the suffocation of drowning. Death is an escape from worldly senses, and all I want is to not suffer or be afraid when I’m living in this world – or dying in it.”
If she does not breathe, I will incinerate the world.
If the world thinks I am hateful now, just wait until they see me if she is taken from it.
“When you shoved that blade into yourself, you took my heart, but not in the way they thought.”
“If I did not want to bond with you, I would have let you die on that table and felt sad for your loss, like I have felt sadness for the Dragons who have been lost, but I would have moved past it. I claimed you as my mate because I wanted you, and I did not give a fuck about asking for your permission when all I wanted was for you to live alongside me.”
He gave an irritated huff, gesturing to the spell again with his hand. “I love you. You love me. It makes sense I should have your mark.”
