Lysander gripped the knife hard, ignoring the deep slice in his palm and the blood dripping on the grave in front of him.
"Must…stab…myself," Mia said, in a daze.
"Mia…." Lysander whispered, his voice a haunting caress that brushed against her mind. "Can you hear me?"
For a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of recognition in her gaze, a spark of the woman he adored. But it was quickly extinguished as the enchantment tightened its grip.
Desperation clawed at him as he felt her try to pull the knife out of his grip. He sucked in a deep breath, but the pain he was feeling in his palm was nothing compared to what he was feeling in his heart.
Dorian was a master manipulator. If there was one things he was extremely good at, it was manipulation. His eyes were a hypnotic abyss that could ensnare anyone,
Lysander reached out and brushed his fingers against her cheek, hoping his touch could awaken what they shared.
