The shadows pressed closer, their forms more defined now—tall, jagged, eyes glinting like molten silver. Marin's heart raced, a wild drum in her chest, and her breaths came shallow. She wanted to run, but Averic's presence anchored her.
"Stay behind me," he commanded, and she obeyed instinctively, the cool brush of his hand on her back sending shivers down her spine.
The creatures lunged, faster than she could comprehend. Averic moved like liquid, intercepting them with precise, almost brutal elegance. Each attack left her stunned—the violence, the grace, the cold inevitability of it.
One shadow broke free and lunged at Marin. She froze, unable to react. Time slowed. Then, before she could even scream, Averic's hand shot out. His fingers curled around her wrist, pulling her close. His body shielded hers.
A soft hiss of effort escaped him, and Marin felt the unnatural chill of his skin against hers. His silver eyes locked onto hers, and for a brief, dizzying moment, she thought she saw a flicker of pain—an emotion she wasn't supposed to see.
"You will survive," he murmured, voice low, almost intimate. "But not without learning to trust me."
Marin's lips parted in a whisper of awe and fear. Trust him… or die. The words echoed in her mind, both terrifying and magnetic.