"Iyana…"
Her name left his lips in a breathless whisper, barely more than a tremble in the wind.
Vyan stumbled back a step, as if the ground beneath him had suddenly shifted. His legs felt weak. His chest tightened, breath uneven and sharp. His eyes were wide, filled with fear.
Iyana's steps slowed. She saw his facial features twist into hurt, like he was in a lot of pain.
Concern tugged at her brows as she took a small step toward him. "Vee?" she asked softly. "Does it hurt somewhere?"
Her instinct kicked in—the fierce, reckless need to protect him, scold him, hold him. What was he doing out here looking like that? If he was in pain, he should've stayed in bed, wrapped up and safe. If she weren't here, what would he have done? He was so damn careless with himself.
But as she reached for him, that panic in his eyes only deepened, spreading like ink in water.
