I bristle at the immediate loss of our soul bond connection.
Broken, my mate says, “Wh…at?”
“Xios has been searching for a way for you to use that information. He believes if there’s still life in the stone, theremustbe a cure. He’s only waited because he hasn’t wanted to give you false hope again. Given what I’ve seen here today,though, I think you might already have access to the kind of power you’d need to undo what you’ve done—should you make that choice.” Flexing, Pollux straightens. “I think the cure is in reach. For the first time since the ages past when we were looking for one together, I think you are on the cusp of it.”
The handle of Castor’s teacup snaps between his fingers, leaving the cup to rest in its saucer. “Do you now?”
“Castor…” Pollux warns.
“So. I reach the cure. I undo what crimes I have hoarded away in my basement. And then what? I make a case to Cael? Present him with my repentance? Petition that I’ve changed for thebetterand deserve just as much place in this world as he?”
“Andthen,” Pollux growls, “you will no longer need to fear mistakes. You will be free from the weight ofaccidents.”
A wheezing laugh tumbles from Castor’s mouth. “Accidents,” he whispers. Leaning forward, he sets his broken cup and saucer down carefully on the table, then he stretches his fingers against his thighs. “I will not be free until my eyes and their curse is my choice to use or withhold. And, then, I will still not be free from those like Cael, who believe that even thechoiceof such power should not belong in the hands of someone like me.” He closes his fingers into fists, pulls them apart, grips his knees. “This news has shocked me. I didn’t know Xios was keeping anything so large from me. I understand why he has. If he was unwilling to give me hope without more promise it would come to anything, that is mercy. That is kindness. That is everything he is…yet I still find myself experiencing emotions over it.”
“Tor—”
Castor smiles, and I shudder at the sight. “Leave now. For your own good. We will talk again when I…am less likely to kill you. Yes. At that point in time.”
“To—”
“Go.”
Tense, I watch Pollux leave, shutting the door behind him, then I fix my gaze on Castor. The air twists, heavy in my lungs, and I try to shake off the looming memory of my mother whenever she was angry. IneedCastor right now, with me, in my heart. The sensation of his distance is letting unwelcome moments back into my skull. Everything I’ve shut out over the past few days as magic and mayhem filled every one of my waking thoughts is slipping into the absence our soul bond has left behind.
Castor’s grip on his legs loosens, and a spark of hope rises in my chest until he grips the underside of the table and sends it—with everything atop it—flying across the room.
I flinch as broken glass rains and food speckles the wall.
His hand shakes as he turns on me.
I flinch again.
He grips my cup of tea, pulls it from my fingers, and sends it launching behind him.
The shatter vibrates in my skull as he plants a hand on the armrest beside me and drags his knee up onto the cushion, trapping me. Tone deadly, he says, “Lie down.”
“Ca—”
“Obey.”
I do as I’m told.
He buries his face against my neck, kisses, then runs his nose down to my heart. “You are not supposed to be afraid,” he murmurs. “This is a moment ofworse, Mine. You are meant to delight in it.”
Swallowing a lump, I say, “You took your heart from my chest. How am I meant to delight in anything without the sensation of you flooding every inch of my body?”
“My emotions right now might hurt you. They are hurting me. I don’t want to hurt you. Not like that. Not without purpose, intent, and wish.” He draws a nail down my arm, opening a lineof fresh red in the wake of it. “I amintentionalwith you,” he whispers, moving his face and healing me with the caress of his tongue. “I will always be intentional with you. You are not to be treated like an afterthought. You do not take the stray cuts.” He grips me just above my knee and runs his touch up my thigh, under my overall skirt.
The sensation of his hand on me pushes at the worry in my brain, shoving it out a bit at a time, and I seep deeper into the couch.
“There we go,” he says softly and darkly, mouth moving against my bicep before relocating to my throat. “I am not a good person, my love. I have a temper. I’m selfish. I am not naturally inclined toward thinking in the ways that bring others a sense of comfort. I am unpredictable in nature and aggressive in practice.”
I swallow. “I…know.”
“Yes, you do.” He nips me. “Tell me now…tell me to take everything out on you. Tell me you are willing to suffer for my sake. Tell… No.Begme for it.”
My eyes close. “Hurt me, Castor. Please. Use me as a vessel for your pain. Let me hold your hurt in my body, in my heart, in my mind until you don’t need it anymore.” I lift my arms around him, draw him close. “Let me take your agony. Please.” A tear forms on my lashes. “I cannot bear the idea of you hurting alone. Please, Castor. For my sake, let me hurt with you.”
