“Don’t touch me!” Lailah waved Reuben away.
Shame. Her emotions crackled and boiled, fighting for dominance.
Reuben, always patient, held out a wet towel. “Let me wash your wounds, Love.”
Her back was bleeding afresh. Thick warm blood meeting numb skin—soaking the sheets. She no longer felt external pain.
Loss. She had fallen from Heaven to be with him. Kind, passionate Reuben. But it wasn’t enough.
Regret. She didn’t belong here, and she could never go back.
Anger. She clutched her dagger under the blanket. How had a mortal possessed her heart?
One sharp slice.
Now they both bled.
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