Page 15 of A Broken Ember

It was the wrong thing to say—or do. I wasn’t sure. His shoulders tensed, and his hand turned the knob.

“I will see you in the morning, Prince,” he stated curtly and briskly stalked past Calian. I met eyes with him briefly, his expression smug. I slammed the door in his face but listened closely for his footsteps to retreat. When the only sound coming from the corridor was the crackle of perfectly sculpted flames, I leaned my head against the doorframe and let my anger out in heaving breaths. How had I fucked up such a simple interaction so badly?

Later, I paced my room, unable to get Claeg out of my mind. Hours had passed, and the sun had been replaced by the moon, the white light reflecting against the smooth stone floor. A gust of spicy air entered my room, but I craved a woodsy scent. The scent of my heart’s Selected. His room was so deep within the stronghold that he wouldn’t see the way the moonlight caressed the tips of the sand dunes or feel the fresh air in his lungs.

I stopped abruptly. He was so stubborn, so utterly strong. He had rejected me, but my body refused to accept that. My cock pulsed at the thought of him, his body perfectly complementing mine. I imagined us together, the perfect harmony we would be for each other. I couldn’t help but compare him to the other Selected. One would think that he wasn’t loyal, or smart, or strong for having his Circles broken, but something told me otherwise. One moment he was submissive, the next challenging me. His odd behavior only intrigued me. He was worth every test—the Prince of Eleos. Uncovering the self-doubt he shouldered and freeing him was my personal mission. I fully intended to uphold my vow to show him how to live. My heart ached for him, knowing full well the despair he likely felt. The familiar cage of helplessness, worthlessness, had enslaved and, in some twisted way, comforted me for a long time.

I thumbed the magic crystal hanging around my neck. I wasn’t blind. It was time to be brave and open my eyes.

Chapter 15: Claeg

I wanted to fly. Needed to. But I had to act submissive. Taking flight without permission… That wasn’t what a humiliated draconis with a broken Circle would do. Instead, I lay in the bed allotted to me. I hadn’t slept well so far, my dreams a fitful mess of terrors of my Circle being truly broken and flashes of a prince cursing me for lying to him about my intentions in the De Vita. My body was coated in sweat, hair plastered to my skin. Part of me ached for him, too. Perhaps if I had indulged him, I could’ve gotten these confusing feelings of lust from the Ruptor out of my system—burned the desire away. Then I could focus on my mission. After what felt like forever tossing and turning, I threw back the blankets and grabbed the trousers and shirt I had borrowed from Anastasius. Even his linen smelled of him—spice and sunlight.

The throbbing of my cock had briefly been relieved by my own touch, but the scent of him brought life back into it. The memory of his hands on my shoulders made my thoughts wander. What would his fist feel like around my cock? His mouth? A groan tumbled from me, demanding I expend my fluid again before attempting anything related to my mission. I spit into my hand, using it for lube, and fisted my cock, pumping it slowly. Once. Twice. Pleasure raked through my body, setting me on fire. The touch burned my brands, but I ignored the pain in favor of the pleasure. I pumped faster, trying to envision Sivert’s lips around my head, anything but him. It didn’t work. My body insisted on dwelling on the prince, picturing him kneeling before me as he cared for my wounds. Kneeling before me as I fucked his ass. I fucked my hand faster, harder. Sivert’s image fell away, replaced by Anastasius’.

The scent of the De Vita prince intensified so much that I swore between my teeth. The presence of his unique flavor of weakness saturated the room so heavily I could almost feel him hovering over me. I imagined him coaxing me toward ecstasy, joining me on my quest for pleasure. A feral noise escaped me, and I thrashed against the sheets.

My climax was fast approaching. I could feel it in my knees, the pleasure building toward a crescendo. I took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, and suddenly, ecstasy thundered through me. I cried out, my back arching involuntarily as warm fluid spilled over my hand. It felt like being struck by lightning, better than any orgasm I had experienced in recent memory. A low groan tumbled from me. I panted as shuddering aftershocks wracked through me.

It took a few minutes to catch my breath, and then reality crashed into me. This was bad. If Clotho or Thana knew whom I lusted for, they would never accept me back into the clan. This had to end here. Having my Circle truly broken . . . having my clan reject me like they had my father . . . it was my worst nightmare. This wouldn’t be happening again. I pushed myself to my feet, wiping my hand on the edge of the sheet. My gaze flickered over to the tub. It sparkled with clean water accented with sweet-smelling citrus and honey. Steam rose off the top. I frowned.

I walked over to the tub, my hands running through it. I winced, the heat burning my hands like the iron was still melting them. I withdrew from the pain. The water smelled like a mixture of him and home again. Everywhere I went, I couldn’t get away from his attempts to disarm me. I wanted to hate it.

“Were you thinking about me?”

I jumped at the question, whirling toward the opposite corner, where I found Anastasius leaning against the door, a smug look on his face.

“By the gods of the Circulus,” I cursed filthily, but this just made his smirk grow. He pushed forward, approaching me. “How long have you been here?” I felt my cheeks flush but refused to let him see me flustered. How had he gone unnoticed by the Ruptor and Calian?

“I had a bath prepared with a drop of the salve infused in it,” he replied, leaving my question unanswered. His gaze trailed down my chest, lingering on my softened cock. It twitched under his gaze, betraying me. “Cleanse yourself. It would be a shame if the infection in those beautiful hands worsened.” He gestured toward the tub in the low light. I could just make out his silhouette in the light coming from outside the doorway. I muttered an oath. My pleasure had distracted me. I had sensed his aura but ignored it in favor of indulgence.

“What are you doing?” Without seeing everything that was going on, I was vulnerable. He had the power here, not I. The idea made me shift uncomfortably.

“If you are Chosen, you will find out.”

“And if I’m not? Will I be Saved?” I dared ask the question in my mind, and airing the fear loosened my tongue further. “What happens to the Circulus that are abducted? Where are they? What does being Saved mean? What aren’t you telling me, Prince?” I took a step toward him, aware of my nakedness but not caring.

He scoffed. “I could ask you the same.” Fuck. Did he suspect my lies? “Eleos.”

The name flared my confusion and anger. “Why call me that? Why not tell them who I am? What is going on, Anastasius?”

He closed the distance between us and raised a hand to my chest, hovering over my skin. “Because that is what you are, Eleos,” he replied softly, his fingers tracing the edge of my brand.

“And what is that?”

“Mercy,” he whispered as we shared a breath.

“You don’t know me,” I spoke, our lips nearly touching. Why did my heart race at the thought of him knowing me?

“I know that you are the Ruptor for the Circulus. I know that you aren’t weak like you want me to believe. I know that you have a kind heart despite being raised within the harsh clan of the Circulus.”

“You’ve only known me for a few days, yet you seem so sure of who I am,” I said, my voice cracking and my heart pounding erratically. Fuck, I couldn’t think straight around him.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Eleos,” he challenged me. He knew I couldn’t. He had me by the throat.

I couldn’t deny it, so I did what my heart had been begging me to do since meeting him: I kissed him.

The moment our lips touched, I felt healed. Whole—all my broken pieces fused. With him, I was strong. I was Eleos. Our mouths moved together so perfectly, unlike any other kiss I had experienced before. He was the answer: the very core of my being was certain of that. He returned the kiss with equal passion, as if realizing the same life-changing realities I was. My hand came up behind his neck, providing that pressure to kiss him more deeply. He obliged me willingly, eagerly, making my loin stir again despite its recent release. He tasted like ambrosia, created by our gods for me. My perfect opposite.

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