"It's getting dark in here," Rion muttered.
I frowned at him. Dark? The greenhouse was glowing, its glass walls catching every glimmer of light that reflected off the stones outside. It wasn't sunlight, no—but it was far from dark. Which meant only one thing: the poison was already clouding his vision.
Panic rose in my chest. I lifted my bleeding palm right up to his face. "Take my blood. Now."
When his hand closed around mine, I flinched. His skin was cold—unnervingly cold, like I'd just touched stone left out in the night. The chill seeped into my fingers, crawling up my arm, and I had to fight the urge to yank my hand back.
Was the poison hitting him faster than he expected? His grip was steady, but there was no warmth in it, only that eerie coldness that didn't belong to someone alive and well. Had he eaten more petals than what's needed?
If that was the case, then his madness went beyond reckless!
