The air between us hums and I hate him for being here. I hate that he’s theonlyone who came. And I hate, most of all, that a part of me is glad he did.
Before I realize what I’m doing, my finger is stabbing hard into his chest that’s slightly damp beneath his shirt.
“You don’t get to stand here and act like you know what I need,” I snarl, every word trembling as I dare him to correct me.
He doesn’t so much as flinch at my touch or words. His hand comes up fast, catching mine in his grip once more. The energy between us crackles, and I see him daring me to pull back in his gaze, and my own narrows, daring him to push harder.
“I know exactly what you need,” he bites out, as he uses his grip on my hand to pull me flush against him. His words vibrate from his chest and into mine. “You need somewhere to put the fire before it eats you alive.”
The challenge sparks low in my belly, furious and frightening, the kind of heat that makes my breath stumble. I should rip my hand free. I should shove him back. Instead, I lean in closer, because pretending I still hate him feels safer than drowning in my sorrow.
His grip holds fast, his chest rising against mine with each harsh breath. I can feel the heat radiating off him as my pulse thrums too quickly.
“Why the fuck do you even care about what I need right now?” The words are saturated with venom as my eyes narrow.
He doesn’t back down.
Instead, he lowers his face until his damp hair drips water droplets onto my shoulder. His breath ghosts against my lips when he whispers, “Maybe I’m just bored. Maybe I’ve got nothing better to do than pick a fight with a princess.”
The word princess lashes through me and I wrench my hand free, stepping back and feeling the broken glass cut into my feet.
There are many things that I could handle him calling me, but choosing the one that sets me up to seem like a pampered, spoiled woman who has never faced anything hard in her life is one that hits too close to home.
It reminds me just how much my world and life have changed. I’m not a princess any longer. I’m a survivor.
So why doesn’t him saying that rile me up further? Why does it tear me apart to think that that’s the word that came to his mind for me?
“If that’s how you see me after everything, then get the fuck out.”
I spin away, but I don’t get far. His hand clamps around my arm, tight and unyielding as he invades my space once more.
Every instinct screams to hand myself over to the anger at him not letting me disengage, to let it burn me alive so I don’t have to feel anything else.
The option to do that is scorched as he stares down at me and whispers, “Or maybe I care because I see the same sadness and anger in you that I’ve been fighting since I was a kid with two dead parents and a little brother who I had to protect, wondering why the world could be so fucking cruel.”
The truth slips out of him like a crack in his carefully constructed mask, and it snags at something broken inside of me before I can stop it. My breath stutters, my body still taut in his grip, but my mind clings to that glimpse of him.
It’s like he reached into my chest and pulled the truth of me into the open by naming his own feelings.
I’ve asked myself over and over why the world is so cruel, but every time I come to the same thought, that my mother wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for me. She would be home with us right now if I had just done my duty and followed the path laid out for me as the princess.
My mother’s face flickers in my mind, swallowed by mist and dragged to her knees, her eyes closing because of me. Because I wasn’t strong enough, because I was foolish enough to think I could choose my own path. The guilt wraps around my ribs until I can’t draw breath.
A strangled gasp wrenches out of me, my chest heaving as the storm inside rises again. It claws at my throat, threatening to drown me in the same helplessness that’s been eating me alive since the portal snapped shut. My body curls toward him before I can think better of it, fingers digging into the hard muscle of his arms like he’s the only buoy left to hold me above the tide.
Breath rushes from me too fast and shallow as I gasp, the edges of the room blurring as panic overtakes me. My voice rips out of me broken, gasping between sobs. “Please.” My grip tightens, nails biting through cloth and into his skin. “Please, make the pain go away.”
Tears blur my vision before I can stop them, gathering at the corners of my eyes until they overflow, spilling down my cheeks. For a heartbeat, something shifts in his face, be it surprise or shock with seeing me break in a way he isn’t built to handle.
His voice drops low, barely a whisper as he gazes down at me with an openness that would steal my breath if I had control of it. “I only have two coping mechanisms for that, Briar. Neither of which include soft words and comfort.”
The dam inside me fractures at the thought of drowning in this despair forever. Tears spill freely now as the pain wells sharper, twisting me in half with the image of my mom writhingin the same torture chamber I was held in, chained and suffering because of me.
My knees almost buckle beneath the weight.
“Please, Elias,” I sob as my forehead falls to press against his chest. “I need it to stop. I need to feel something besides this and I can’t hold onto rage for anyone but myself for long enough.”
His body goes completely rigid, his hesitation radiating from him even without words. For a moment I think he’ll tear himself away and leave me clawing at the silence alone.
