“Zander,” Amara says, grabbing his arm. “Let her go. She's not a child; she can do as she pleases.” Zander clearly wants to argue, but I know I've won when Tristan squeezes his shoulder and shakes his head.
Unwilling to wait for them to change their mind, I listen to my boots scrape across the jeweled street as I race away. Racing away from them, the forest, and Darius. Most of all, racing away from myself and all these overwhelming emotions. But when I round the corner and step past the palace gates into the nobility district, I wish I’d heeded Zander’s warning.
The entirety of Seboia is rich and luxurious, but in this section of the city where the nobles and upper class reside, their wealth is indescribable. A completely different world.
Roofs drip in gold and walls swirl with embedded jewels; the white stone shops and crystal townhouses are just miniature versions of the grand palace they rest up against. Gods Luminescence is scripted with brilliant starlight and frosty blue sapphires on a sign hanging above a shop that sells chandeliers, sconces, and various other Gods Light fixtures. Slabs of rubies, pink tourmaline, and yellow garnet the size of my head line a pathway to the entrance of the seamstress’s shop, Needles and Thread. Even the bakery has an entire door made of emerald. A bakery! How can they afford that when all they sell is bread? The only shop that looks even remotely less ostentatious still screams of privilege with a structure made up entirely of black onyx with gold scripted above the door, Fortunes and Truth. It's all dazzling and extravagant, not to mention blindingly horrific.
But that’s not what causes my feet to root to stone or my skin to break out in a nervous sweat. It's the dozens and dozens of immortals and fae casually strolling along, and of the impact of those same beings' emotions blasting into me, rattling the cage of my tenuous control.
When I was younger, I was able to shut out all others. But as I aged and my power grew, I could no longer completely silence them. Conforming to my ever-growing Gifts, I built the walls of my cage, and the bars muffled their feelings. Not completely, of course, but enough to where I can ignore them if I choose to. Which I often do. For that fact alone, unless I'm with Zander, Tristan, Amara, or anyone else who’s aware of my Gift and can calm me if needed, I usually avoid heavily populated areas such as this. Even when I'm in the right state of mind, the emotions of so many can become loud and abrasive, often testing my control.
For this reason along with thousands of others, the only plausible conclusion as for why I join the bustling shoppers instead of backing into the alley and returning from where I came is a temporary loss of sanity.
Or I can blame Darius. Him and his intoxicating kiss.
Nerves still buzzing from our encounter, I drop my gaze and weave through the masses, hyperaware to avoid skin-to-skin contact with my fellow pedestrians. But it's next to impossible with the street filled as it is. A female grazes her pinky against my hand. A fae rubs his bare shoulder with mine. A small boy dances beneath my feet and I stumble into a Nature immortal who catches me, placing his hands on my shoulders.
“Are you alright?” he asks, his attraction piercing into me as if a lance.
I flinch and mumble a hurried thank you as I shrug him off and quickly move towards a less populated area.
I shouldn't be here.
No, I shouldn't. Not after we kissed. Gods, that kiss! That wasn't even a kiss. It was a life altering, soul wrenching, ruin-you-for-any-other-male type of kiss. One filled with passion and lust. One you could never replace with another, no matter how hard you try. Even now, just the idea of being intimate with anyone beside Darius is revolting.
I should've stayed away from him. He’s dangerous.
That's what Darius is. With his probing eyes and that dimpled smile, he makes me feel wanted. Needed. Special. Not for what I am – for he still doesn’t even know what I am – but because of who I am as a person. Who I am in my soul.
Walking at a more sedate pace with more room to maneuver in this pocket of the street, I shake my head and chastise myself. From the first moment I saw him, I knew in my gut he was different. That what I feel for him is different. The hunger, the warmth, the affection. He evokes too many emotions within me. Too many forbidden emotions. Ones that test my control when it’s imperative that I remain in control. There's no other option. When I don’t, people die. But I'm afraid this may be something I can’t control. That the intensity of our bond is too strong for me to ignore.
What would happen if I didn't ignore it?
Passing a casual glance over the magicked crystal fountain that shoots crystalline jets of glittering teal water from its ports, I chuckle humorlessly.
I don't know. Maybe I'll run into the middle of the city with dozens of emotional beings while my control is flimsy, at best.
Turning to the side, I avoid stepping on a female’s gods-awful balloon dress, frowning. Maybe my loss of control isn't because we gave in, but because I’ve been spending so much energy trying not to.
I sigh. That may explain the less-than-ideal choices I’ve made, but it doesn't explain the bond or the magnitude of our desire. That need isn’t common. Very rare, actually. The only relationship I've ever encountered that's even remotely similar in its intensity is my mother and father’s. But that can’t possibly be happening here. The depth of their relationship is preordained while my destiny lies elsewhere.
A flash of yellow catches my eyes, interrupting my musings, and I look up to see a family heading in my direction. The female holding the babe is garbed in a saffron dress, her hair pinned up with crystal flowers, while the male is wearing a silver tunic beneath a royal blue surcoat. Both are Air immortals, marked by their sapphire and starlight jewels near the outer corner of each eye, and they appear to be born and bred within the upper class. Besides that, there's nothing unusual about them that would've caught my attention. They seem completely ordinary as they stroll down the street hand-in-hand. But when I peer closer and really see them, I discover what has captured my attention. Something I never would’ve noticed before, but laid bare as I am now, I can't help but to.
He wraps his arm around her waist, tugging her to his side while she nuzzles her babe’s cheek. Leaning down, he smiles and whispers in her ear. She laughs, genuine and free, and snuggles closer while he stares down at his wife and child with a look of complete adoration.
Jealousy nips at my heels for the second time today as their emotions trickle between the bars of the cage when I feel their happiness and devotion. Their love.
I’ve never allowed myself to wish for another life. To do so would cause unjust pain I can do without. Before now, it wasn't difficult. I've never loved or truly cared for someone outside my family and friends, so any hope for a romantic relationship was fleeting and easily suppressed. But with Darius, everything is more. So much to feel. So much to absorb. So much so, that my soul aches as I wish for what will never be.
For a babe. For a family.
For love.
Tears brim in my eyes and I shut them, trying to rein in my desolation. This is why I’ve been trying to avoid Darius. This is what I was afraid of. That his presence in my life would make me wish for impossible things when the most I can ever wish for is to find hope within others. To give hope to others. For hope belongs to those who can truly be free, and I never will be. Can never have that life. Not when I'm enslaved as I am, my life belonging to everyone but myself. There will be no family in my future. No loving husband or adoring babe. Just an empty existence alone. Forever alone.
Dropping my gaze, I rush past, refusing to torture myself any longer. I attempt to rein in my emotions again, but I can't. Not with Darius dragging all these long-suppressed desires to the surface, kicking and screaming the whole way. The lust, the fire, the bond; it's all too much. I know that future isn’t intended for someone like me, but its power over me is staggering. Its strength, overwhelming. So much so, I fear the damage he has caused may be irreparable.
Strong fingers wrap around my bicep, dragging me against a male’s broad chest.
“Are you lost, my lady?” a Water immortal says, peering down at me with a greasy smile. “This is no place for a human unescorted. Allow me to offer my services.”
His lust slinks between the bars and my stomach lurches onto itself, his touch burning as if prodding me with a hot poker. Wrenching my arm free, I slip between the crowd before he can insist on ‘escorting’ me anywhere.
Yet even though I manage to escape him, I can’t escape the cacophony of emotions bombarding me. No longer muzzled, dozens of beings shout their feelings. Anger, happiness, irritation, love; they all rattle the cage with my dangerously teetering control. My heart races, my breaths quicken, and I slap my hands to my ears, desperately trying to shut out the noise clawing and screeching at the bars. But their shouts persist while the burn from the Water immortal’s touch spreads and intensifies, acid radiating down my arms and legs as it eats away at my flesh.
Breathe… You have to breathe. Take back your control. You have to. There's no other choice.
With great effort, I slow my breaths and my heart thuds at a more leisurely pace as I carefully place a frail muzzle on the sounds. When I feel like I've managed dominance over my unruly Gift, I allow my hands to fall to my sides, and I inhale a deep, rejuvenating breath. But then I sense it… Much darker emotions. An oily, sinister cloud of corruption and perversion that slithers quietly through the cracks of the cage until it blankets me, suffocating me.
Scanning the street, I search for the masters of the darkened souls. It takes several moments for my gaze to finally land on the dozen or so males laughing and joking only a few paces away. But when it does, my stomach sours even more, my breaths hitching in my throat as I stare at them. The instant they look up and catch sight of me at a standstill in the middle of the street, I have to press the back of my vambraced hand to my mouth and swallow back bile as their inky, black souls blast their depraved intentions to me with a wave of all too familiar perversions. My mouth waters and my throat clogs with tears as I break their gaze and bolt down a side alley.
Boots slapping against stone and splashing in puddles, I race between buildings with single-minded purpose. I cup a hand to my mouth and breathe through my nostrils to stop the vomit that strives for release, but find no relief the farther away I race from them. My skin continues to crawl from their vileness and the bars of the cage bend, molding towards me, entombing me within their depravity.
The alley dead ends and I slap my palms to Seboia’s own cage of a wall, hunching over and vomiting all the contents of my stomach. Once my gut hollows out, I hack and spit, swiping the back of my vambraced hand against my lips, and place my cheek against the cool stone wall.
I don't know if it was their inky souls, the stone biting into my palms, the desolation within me, or all of that combined, but when I close my eyes, a memory flashes before me. A dark shed. Alternating waves of hunger and cold. Chained wrists to an unmoving beam. Paralyzing terror and the tearing pain as sweat slicked skin slides against my own. Their cruel laughter as I flick my hands over and over again, desperately trying to release power that refuses to be unbound. Bound for my safety, but now as much of a chain as the iron around my wrists.
Stone crumbles beneath my nails as I claw at the wall, wishing to purge my mind as much as my stomach, but it’s a fruitless wish. For I already know I'll never be able to scour my mind of those twisted memories.
