My tongue slides across my lower lip in an attempt to wet the chapped skin, but my mouth is so dry, I doubt it’s doing anything. A bucket of ice chips sits on the cracked gray stone just inches from me, but I can’t bring myself to reach for it. The more I drink, the worse I feel, and every time I consider why, bile rises in the back of my throat, my stomach flipping and threatening to expel the little water I’ve managed to consume in the past twenty-four hours I’ve been locked alone in this cell. I’m not sure if I still need it to survive, but I’m certainly not taking any chances.

And then there’s that nagging desire in the furthest corner of my mind, growing stronger with each desperate heartbeat and every shallow breath. Fenryr… I wonder if he’s okay…

It’s only been a few days, but since our bond snapped into place, it feels like I’ve known him for eons. Like my soul had been searching for him across worlds and throughout time, so when we finally found each other, I was able to breathe for the first time in my life.

But he’s gone now. Gone, just like the others. Just like always.

I’ve often wondered if I’m cursed—if at some point, I did something bad and the gods decided I deserved to be alone—but no amount of tears I could cry or anguish I could carry would prompt them to give me an answer.

Perhaps it’s better that way.

I lay my head back against the cracked stone and let out a breath, the thick cloud of vapor swirling in front of my face and blocking my sight. When it clears, my heart skips a beat at the sight of a glowing red eye blinking lazily in the shadows.

“Malice?” As soon as his name rolls off my tongue, he steps farther into the room, head lowered and shoulders hunched like a lion stalking its prey. Anxiety heats the back of my neck, but it’s not uncomfortable. Just the sight of him alone has the bond roaring to life, my skin prickling with desperation to feel his clawed hands on me. “What are you doing here?”

He brings a clawed finger to his lips, a barely discernible smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he speaks into my mind. I brought you something.

My eyes track down his body, over the quivering muscles covering his arm, and stop at his fist. What is it?

Something to keep you alive, he answers.

Malice walks over to me, halting when there’s less than a foot between us. With a wary gaze, he crouches in front of me, holding out his closed hand with a pained expression.

It doesn’t look like you want to give it to me…