Chapter 12 ELEVEN
\[NYRA'S POV\]
My head hurts!
The number of headaches I’ve gotten in the space of one week should be illegal. My head’s spinning like someone’s playing with it with a jackhammer and a blender at the same time.
I slowly open my eyes and meet Riven’s dark, stormy ones. And of course, he’s leaning in, looking like he belongs on some overpriced calendar that only goths and heartbreakers buy.
Before I can even move, he pulls me into his arms. My chest crashes against his broad chest and I swear, for half a second, I forget my brain exists.
“Whoa! Hands off, heartthrob,” I mutter, but my voice cracks halfway because, hello, I can’t actually breathe.
He doesn’t let go.
“You’re awake,” he says quietly, his voice a low growl that hits somewhere dangerous in my chest.
“Yes, thank you for noticing, Captain Obvious,” I reply, shooting him a glare sharp enough to leave a paper cut. But inside, my heart is doing that weird, fluttering thing that makes me want to swear and puke at the same time.
“You had to face that monster alone…again.” He shifts me so I’m sitting against his chest. “You could’ve been killed.”
I snort, because apparently, sarcasm is my coping mechanism. “Oh, I know. That’s why I’m totally planning to thank you for not letting me become a ghostly snack.”
He huffs a laugh—dark, low, and irritatingly sexy—and I immediately regret it. My cheeks heat up. “Stop doing that,” I whisper. “You’re not allowed to laugh when I’m trying to act like a badass.”
“You call this acting?” His eyes flick to my messy hair, the faint bruises on my arms, and then he smirks. “Because you look like a dying raccoon. Very intimidating.”
I shove him lightly. “You’re lucky I can’t throw you across the room right now.”
He doesn’t budge. He just holds me tighter. “You need to rest.”
“Rest?” I repeat, incredulous. “After almost getting eaten by some skeletal nightmare thing? Oh sure, lemme just take a nap while my inner wolf and your bossy little magic fight off Armageddon for me. Totally reasonable.”
He tenses.
I notice for the first time just how close his body is pressed to mine. Like, ridiculously close. And for some reason, I feel the pull…Lyric’s voice sniping at the edges of my mind, urging me, warning me.
“Nyra…” he murmurs, and his tone finally breaks through my sass. “You don't have to do this alone. You have us and we're gonna figure everything out together.”
I glare at him. “Oh, so now it’s suddenly my fault that some freaky undead is trying to eat me?”
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not your fault. But you’re the target. And you’re the Lunar Heir. That mark on your shoulder blade? It’s more than just decorative. If you don’t learn to control it…”
“Or if I die?” I cut in, smirking despite the dread curling in my stomach. “Yeah, got it. Thanks for the pep talk.”
“You think this is funny?” His voice drops into that low growl again, the one that makes my blood skip and my knees want to buckle.
“I’m sassy,” I retort, not even trying to hide my smirk. “It’s a coping mechanism. You should try it sometime instead of frowning like life personally insulted you every five minutes.”
His gaze hardens. “I’ve got bigger problems than your sass right now, Nyra. You just woke up. That thing… it wasn’t normal. And the Lunar Sigil…no one has seen it in eons. Your magic is awakening faster than we anticipated. You could hurt yourself…or worse, those around you.”
“Oh. Them. Good to know. Thanks for the clarification. Should I panic now or later?”
He doesn’t laugh. His jaw tightens, and I realize sarcasm isn’t going to get me out of this. “Nyra, listen. I don’t want you to think just because you carry the mark, you are a monster. This…you…this power inside you it’s dangerous. You can’t just ignore it. Not if you want to survive. And not if you want anyone else to. But that's why you have us. ”
I swallow hard, biting back the panic that’s trying to bubble up. He’s right. I can feel it—the raw, molten energy still thrumming inside me, coiling, waiting.
“Control it. Don’t let it control you,” Lyric hisses in my head. “You can handle this.”
“Yeah, easy for you to say, furball.”I think, glaring at the inside of my skull. “You weren’t nearly killed by some skeletal nightmare with a taste for your soul!”
" You do realize we both face the same danger, right,’’ she asks. I sigh.
I meet Riven's eyes. Dark, stormy, impossibly intense. “And what if I can’t? What if I lose it again?”
His lips curl slightly, dangerously. “Then I’ll hold you until you do. You’re not facing this alone, Nyra. Do you understand?”
I huff, frustrated. “I’m not a child. I can handle myself…”
“You almost died!” he interrupts, and I flinch. He’s not yelling, not exactly, but the sharpness in his voice makes me freeze in place.
“Okay, okay,” I mumble, rolling my eyes even though my heart is hammering. “I get it. Don’t eat the chocolate before dinner, don’t get eaten, don’t set off ancient magical sigils that’ll kill everyone around me.”
He doesn’t smile, but his gaze softens just slightly. “Exactly.”
I groan. “Ugh, why do I feel like I just signed up for the most intense internship in Hell?”
“Because you did.”
I blink at him. “Excuse me?!”
He tilts his head, eyes locking on mine. “You’re not just some random wolf, Nyra. You’re the Heir. You’re powerful. The Sigil chose you. You’re not surviving by chance…you’re surviving because you can.”
I huff again, letting some of my sass bubble up just to fight the fear. “Well, I’m glad the universe has such faith in me. I feel so…validated.”
His lips twitch into what almost looks like a smile. Almost.
“Enough talking,” he mutters. “You need training. Now. And no sass during combat, Nyra. I’m serious.”
I narrow my eyes. “No sass? That’s…criminal.”
He grabs my wrist. “Less talking, more surviving.”
“Ugh! How I'm I supposed to even do this? Lucien said I can't fully control my powers till the bond is fully accepted. He clearly doesn't even want me, so how's that possible?”
"He'll come around,” he says softly. " They all will. But for the meantime we have to get you up and ready. You should at least have a little reign on them.”
I groan dramatically, but inside, adrenaline starts sparking along my veins.
“Fine,” I think, rolling my shoulders. “You want a fight? Let’s see if you can handle the sass and the power.”
Because if I’m going to survive as the Lunar Heir, I’m going to do it on my terms.
Sassy, chaotic, and way too stubborn to die quietly.