Still lying on the floor, I jerk my head up and stare in panic at the door while a mountain of dread crashes over me.
Orion Nightbane is standing there in the open doorway, watching me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Orion’s black and silver eye remains fixed on me for a few more seconds. Then he sweeps his gaze over the five dead bodies on the floor. He lets out a sigh.
“Jocasta warned me about this,” he says. “That the strength of your magic would make the side effects worse as well.”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing,” I blurt out, desperately trying to make the lie sound convincing. But the fact that I’m still lying on the floor with my body shaking from need isn’t exactly helping. “I just?—”
“Lost control?” He holds my gaze.
Shame erupts inside me. It pulses through my entire chest like liquid fire, and it’s so intense that it actually overshadows that desperate need for magic.
Orion lets out another sigh and then starts to turn around. “That’s it. I’m telling Draven.”
“No!” I scream, panic crackling through me. I try to push myself up from the floor, but my body is still shaking so hard with that addictive need that I can’t make my limbs support me. A sob rips from my throat as I desperately stretch my arm towards Orion’s feet, as if that can stop him. “Please. Orion,please, I’m begging you. Don’t tell Draven. I don’t want to burden him. Don’t?—”
But the Unseelie King just walks straight out the door.
Broken sobs escape my lips, and tears stream down my cheeks. Letting my arm fall back down, I curl up on the floor and cry while searing shame and burning self-disgust claw at my soul.
I have never hated myself as much as I do in that moment.
After last time, I swore that I would never lose control like this again. That something like this would never happen again. I swore that I could handle it. That I was strong enough to resist the urges.
But now, I’m lying here shaking on the floor with five dead bodies around me, and all I can think about is still only that addictive feeling of comfort and how much I want to feel it again. It’s sick. I want to crawl out of my own skin. I feel dirty. I want to scrub my body until it’s red. I want to throw up.
Drawing my knees up to my chest, I gasp out broken sobs while tears stream down my cheeks.
I just want someone to hug me and tell me that everything is going to be okay. I want this war to be over. I want my mom and dad. I want to go home. I don’t want to hurt like this anymore. I don’t want to fight anymore. Oh Goddess, I’m so tired of fighting.
But nothing is okay. This war isn’t over. My parents are dead. I don’t have a home. Everything always hurts. And when the sun rises, I somehow still have to find the strength to get up and fight the worst battle of our entire era.
I just want to see the world with Draven and laugh with my friends and eat good food and make love andlive. I want to?—
“Selena.”
Draven. Just hearing his voice makes me cry even harder. I don’t want him to see me like this. I want to be strong for him. I want to be the one who takes care ofhim.
My chest aches as he gently slides his arms underneath mybody and picks me up from the floor. I drag in shuddering breaths, tears still flowing down my cheeks, as he hugs me tightly to his chest.
“You’re going to be okay,” he murmurs into my hair. “Everything is going to be okay.”
He starts moving towards the kitchen table. But then he seems to remember that there is never any food in people’s homes in the Seelie Court. Because of the one meal system, we can’t actually cook, so the kitchen is only a room that people sit and eat in after bringing back food from one of the taverns.
When Draven remembers that, he instead strides out the door, leaving the five dead bodies behind. With me still in his arms, he walks straight into the closest tavern and bellows, “Get out!”
All the fae who were gathered there jump in surprise and then quickly scurry out the door. I don’t even have enough strength left in me to be embarrassed.
Draven gently sets me down on a chair close to the bar. Then he strides into the kitchen. Pots clang and plates clank for a few seconds before he returns with a whole assortment of food.
Steam rises in lazy swirls from both a bowl of stew and an entire loaf of warm bread. Glass jars with various vegetables produce small thuds as Draven sets them down on the table around the bowl. Then he goes back and grabs a large mug and a pitcher of water.
My stomach rumbles as the heavenly scent of food fills my lungs. I draw in deep breaths, trying to get my body to stop trembling, while Draven pours water into the mug before me.
“Eat,” he says. “You’ll feel better after you eat a little.”
