Her thoughts shutter as effectively as if she slammed a door in my face. It takes me a heartbeat to recover from the loss of her emotions.
I can only take what’s being used against me, she conveys solemnly. It isn’t a promise that she wouldn’t use my powers against me, it’s an explanation as to why she would. While her pulling away from me is wholly unwelcome, this is not. She has changed, hardening in a way I wasn’t sure she was capable of. I wish it hadn’t been necessary, but it proves just how strong she really is.
There is nothing you could take from me that wouldn’t be freely given, little flower. I gave you my blood and would happily give you my body and more to keep you safe.
Briar’s hands ball into tight little fists as she clutches the cloak over her lap. I wish I could feel her touch, her nails dragging over my skin.
I thought you might be scared of me now.There’s humorless mirth behind her words, as if admitting her thoughts seems foolish.
I didn’t know fear until they took you from me—not when I fell, not even when I held you in my arms while your heart tried to stop beating after you were bitten. Losing you is the only thing that frightens me, Briar.
Her pouty lips curl down slightly as her golden eyes well with unshed tears. A strong sense of guilt leaks through her defenses, so I don’t know what’s causing the emotion until she confesses,I shouldn’t have doubted you. I’m just… It’s just what… I’m used to…Her thoughts are stuttered, as if broken by sobs.
The urge to hold her, to comfort her, has me reaching for the mirror again. Her hand lifts without an ounce of hesitation this time to rest over mine. With that perceived connection, her shield crumbles, hopefully for good this time. Without asking for permission, I scan her thoughts, the ones on the surfaceand those lying deeper within. This feeling of contentment is addicting. If there was a way to safely keep the channel between us open at all times, then I would so I could be wrapped up in her.
Whoa,she whispers, and I swear I feel her breath near my ear. There isn’t one part of me that isn’t focused completely on her, and when she dropped whatever wall she was using to protect herself, she also opened herself up to my thoughts.
Briar lists to the side, and her eyes roll back in her head before she loses consciousness. For a single heartbeat, her mind is completely blank, then I have unfettered access to everything. Selfishly, I seek out her thoughts of me. I need to know that she will eventually forgive me.
I scan through her memories like leafing through a favorite book. Every image I see takes on a new context and opens my eyes to her perspective. Seeing myself through her lens is the closest I’ve felt to being a god since falling, and for the first time in my long existence, it has nothing to do with the amount of power I have. She worshipedme, not Ziveet.
The dread of not being forgiven slips away. Part of her has already absolved me, but that fear is replaced with a different sort of trepidation—I’m terrified of disappointing her again because I know I will damage her irrevocably if I do.
I follow our shared moments back to the instant she fell for me, before she even understood what was happening. Her heart is thundering so fast, I can’t imagine how she could breathe, let alone speak through the torrent. I’m crouched in front of her, contemplating why she is offering to share food with me when she is clearly starving.
Her reply is faint, because that isn’t what’s important to her, but I remember the moment vividly. She credited me for giving her the food in the first place and wanted to show her gratitude. I remember being enamored by her show of kindness anddisappointed that she would risk herself for anyone, let alone me who needed nothing.
I watch myself lean forward and take a bite of the meat in her hand, and her reaction to it nearly steals my breath. She wanted me even then, imagining what my teeth would feel like on her skin, and the thought scared her because she’d never thought of such things before.
If I had known what she was thinking, I never would have been able to move away from her. I thought I frightened her and knew I would scare her if I let her see just how she was affecting me.
The missed opportunity to touch her when I had the chance is like a knife to my chest. I won’t make the same mistake again in the future.
Her thoughts cloud, and I’m shoved roughly from her mind, leaving me to feel slightly disoriented and bereft. Seeing her through the mirror is no longer good enough. I need to touch her, feel her breath catch when I look at her from across the room, and hear the way her heart speeds in her chest when I call her my flower.
Briar opens her eyes slowly before wincing and grabbing the sides of her head. “Ow,”she says, and it takes me a moment to realize I didn’t hear her in my head but read her lips. I’m disappointed by the complete loss of connection, but I know better than to try again. It’s clear I need to learn to erect my own walls while communicating this way or risk hurting her again.
I lean over and pick up the discarded tablet and wait for her to recover enough to be able to read.
Are you hurt?
She starts to shake her head but stops quickly when her lips curl in as if she might vomit.
Just a headache. What happened?
You stopped blocking me. I’m sorry I overwhelmed you. Can you teach me how you did it?
Her eyes widen as if my question surprises her.
Teach you what?
How you shielded your mind from me.
Briar starts to write then scribbles it out before starting over.
It’s called self-preservation. I don’t think I can teach you because I have no idea how I did it.
Unfortunately, I believe her, which means I’ll have to figure it out on my own before communicating with her like that again. I won’t risk damaging her mind, because I’m desperate to hear her voice and feel close to her.
