Around and around and around I go.
“Judge me for it—for not being able to end him,” I say softly, almost like I want him to. And maybe I do. Maybe it would be a good punishment, fit for the girl who fell in love with her captor and let herself flounder. “I know how pathetic I must seem to you.”
Whatever he sees on my face makes his eyes soften, the angry frustration smoothing from his heavy brow. He walks over to me again, not nearly as close this time, but at least he’s sealed the gap, making the air between us not so cold and jagged when I inhale.
Slowly, Slade lifts a hand to sweep a knuckle across my bruise. I melt into the touch like the brim of wax on a candlestick, and all I can think is, what would it be like to just catch and burn in his heat?
One simple skim is all I get though, and then his touch drops away, leaving the track to tingle. He stuffs both hands into his pockets, as if he needs to keep them there so he doesn’t reach for me again. I keep trying to convince myself that separation from him is what I need, and yet every time I get just that, it feels like someone is fisting my paper heart, crumpling it whole. A pang resonates through me as he stands there, suddenly seeming untouchable.
It doesn’t matter that his shirt is torn on the sleeves from where his spikes ripped through. It doesn’t matter that he’s here in a begrimed library full of rotting books. It doesn’t even matter that I saw him lose a sliver of control. Somehow, he still manages to look kingly. Intimidating. Gorgeous.
“You’re not pathetic,” he murmurs quietly, a somber sort of song. “You just haven’t found it yet.”
My golden brows pull together as I search his expression for meaning. “Found what?”
“We all have our edge, Auren. One day, you’re going to find where yours is.” The darkness of his essence brushes against my skin like a whisper’s caress. “You’re going to find out just how far you can be pushed until you’re tipped over. And when that happens, when you find your edge, just promise me one thing.”
My voice comes out like a croak, a single tear dashing down. “What?”
“Don’t fall.” Time stands still as he leans in and places a kiss on my temple, lips turning to whisper into my ear. “Fly.”
I don’t even realize my eyes fluttered closed until I blink my damp lids open again. But by then, Slade’s already gone, swallowed up by the shadows without a sound.
Chapter 26
SLADE
The library door doesn’t slam shut behind me. It would’ve been more satisfying if it had. Not for the scribes, who’d surely curse me in their heads, but it would’ve pleased me immensely given my current mood.
Instead, all I get is the quiet snick of wood. Yet somehow, Osrik hears it and appears around the corner, his black leathers peeling him from the shadows as he waits for me.
For a big bastard, he’s quiet when he wants to be. All my Wrath are. They’ve had to learn skills like that over the years. Some of those skills are as harmless as learning to move silently, while other skills are…not so harmless.
Osrik takes one look at my expression and cocks a bushy brow. Stroking a hand down his brown beard, he studies me as I stalk down the hall toward him. He steps up to my side and matches my pace, and even though I’m not a short male by any means, Osrik’s height dwarfs mine, his bulky body swaying with every booted step.
“So, nice visit with Auren then?” he asks wryly, a smirk playing on his mouth.
I pin him with a glare. “Why don’t you take that piercing in your bottom lip and stick it through your top one too?”
Osrik lets out a chuckle, tongue flicking over the tiny piercing of Fourth’s twisted tree branch sigil. It’s one of his only tells. He flicks at it when he’s thinking, or pissed, or amused. So actually, I guess it’s a pretty shit tell.
“She’s done a number on you, huh?”
My irritation twitches with the vein in my temple. Beneath my skin, I can feel my power writhing like infected veins, rooting around for a source to latch onto. My fury feels the same, but I know exactly who I want to take it out on.
“He fucking hit her.”
Osrik stops in his tracks. I turn to face him, and his brown eyes blink at me, his round face going ruddy beneath his scruff. “What the fuck did you say?”
Only because we’re in a deserted hallway does he know he can talk to me like this. When we’re around others, we have to keep up the act of formality. But I don’t consider my Wrath my subjects or servants. They’re the only people in this whole damn world I trust. So when we’re not forced to play court, we can speak freely.