His violet eyes searched hers with desperation more than lust.
Roxy was very foreign to his gaze. Why did he look like he was hurting?
Roxy felt her breath hitch. She leaned in, compelled by the raw vulnerability in his gaze. As he shifted closer, the loose collar of his white inner tunic slipped a fraction of an inch to the side.
There, just above his collarbone, the moonlight caught something dark.
Something that looked like webs was crawling up his nape. Thick, black veins pulsed beneath his pale skin, looking like ink spilled under a layer of ice. The skin around it was grey and necrotic, a stark contrast to the ethereal beauty of his face.
"Ren," Roxy whispered, her eyes widening. She reached out instinctively. "Your neck... what is that?"
Ren froze.
His eyes darted down to where her gaze was fixed. The spell of the moment broke instantly, shattered by the ugly reality of his sickness.
"No!"
