Dexmon had broken bones. He'd been stabbed, burned, and given Viper's Kiss. None of it prepared him for what this memory was about to do to him.
He watched Asher's horror, revulsion, desperation. He could feel himself fighting it the way you feel someone gripping your hand in the dark, knuckles white, holding on. He was holding on. But the fact that he had to hold on at all was the thing that was killing her.
Natalia let go. Her eyes were welling, but she held her composure, not letting any tears fall. She took a steadying breath, swallowed, then turned, leaving the hall.
Asher stood frozen, unaware for a minute.
Then he shook his head once, coming back to his senses.
"Nat—"
He looked to his right where she was just standing, but she was gone. His eyes widened. He shoved past anyone in his path without apology, heart hammering.
Across the ballroom, Ronan's hand flew to his sternum. He pushed his way through the crowd, following Asher.
