Page 30 of A Broken Ember

We arrived at his room, where Anastasius pushed the door open and went to the hearth, stoking the blazing fire. I slipped in and shut the door behind me. It was still daylight out, but just barely. The sun was falling below the horizon, sending its last rays into the room. The effect made the interior of the room shimmer a pristine red, sandy color. Normally, it would call to the Ruptor, but my eyes were locked on Anastasius. The man who was mine. Mine to hate and mine to hurt.

“I didn’t know you couldn’t write,” he said as sparks exploded from the fireplace. He made no move to avoid them, letting the fallen sparks settle on his skin. He didn’t even flinch. Magic, but how?.

“Such a thing isn’t needed to be strong,” I replied, not really feeling the conviction in my words.

“Yet today the inability weakened you,” he said bluntly. I winced as his eyes turned toward me, narrowing. I scowled. He was right. Heat flushed in my cheeks.

“I made it through, didn’t I?”

The prince hummed, his shoulders stiffening as he sighed. “Such a stubborn Circulus streak in you. I wonder how they ever thought breaking your Circle was appropriate.” He ran a hand through his hair, loosening the braids.

“If it bothers you so much, why did you Select me, Prince?”

Anastasius balled his fists. “Do you really not know?” He balked at me.

Shame flooded me. Fool. He was using me. The prince began to pace, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re using me for something,” I snapped. “Leverage against your father? Are you hoping to get information out of me?” The questions burned my throat with the anger that accompanied them. He stopped pacing then and spun towards me, his eyes wide with horror.

“Tell me you don’t believe that,” he pleaded quietly, vulnerability in his voice.

“I don’t want to,” I admitted. “But you’ve rejected me over and over, Stas.” Now I sounded pathetic, like a fledgling just finding their voice.

Anastasius’ moon-gray eyes softened. “I Selected you because I admire you, Claeg!” he hissed.

My eyebrows flew to my hairline, and my jaw dropped. My true name on his lips stirred my longing for him. My heart roared the single word: need. I caressed his jaw with my thumb, my fingers drawing him closer to me.

“Why? I am broken, Stas,” I begged him to see the truth the chains wouldn’t let me voice. He only scoffed, so I pressed harder, willing him to push me away. “You have magic. What could I offer you?” The accusation fell off my tongue. Anastasius hummed. We were so close I could feel his breath on my face, and my heart pounded with all the exhilaration of prey in a trap.

I absently began unbraiding my hair, but Anastasius put up a hand. “Let me.” He reached out, and I caved to his demands. His fingers were deft and gentle as he untwisted my hair. I kept my eyes on his face, ignoring the proximity of him. When he was done, he didn’t back away; instead, his hands fell to my shoulders. “I trust you,” Anastsius whispered in my ear. His warm breath stirred a mix of guilt and desire within me—guilt that I was leading him on and because, in a way, I wasn't. Choosing Anastasius went against my vows as a Circulus. Choosing Circulus went against the Ruptor’s instincts. Instincts which I had grown to trust.

"You shouldn't. A puppet has no choice but to perform the dance of its master," I answered truthfully, repeating my earlier sentiment and placing the decision in his hands. If he knew I couldn't be trusted and still wanted me, how could I refuse?

"Then take my blade and free yourself."

My heart thundered in my chest, my ribcage too small. His words shredded my willpower, making me break for him. “Anastasius,” I warned as the desire took hold of me. I pulled on the strings that bound me and turned my head, closing the distance between our mouths. A deep rumble of power sparked between us like magic. Suddenly, his hands were all over me and he deepened the kiss, finally letting me suck on his lip. He tasted like melted honey. A breathy moan left me. He pressed possessive kisses to my jaw and neck, guiding me back toward the bed. Anastasius gave me a light push and the back of my knees hit the silks. The Ruptor preened, delighted to finally own this beautiful creature. My knees buckled under a second push, forcing me to prop myself up upon my elbows. He smirked, straddling me. Finally, finally, I could own him, make him mine.

"You are a rainstorm in the desert," he mumbled. A breath caught in my throat, and I went utterly still, the lust draining from my body in an instant. His words were like a sharp tug upon the strings that bound me—a reminder that I didn’t belong.

“Anastasius, we can’t,” I gasped, rolling out from under him so I could breathe. “The Selection.” I muttered the flimsy excuse, using it as a last resort to protect my heart which was laid bare. The prince’s stormy eyes clouded and he hissed, but he collapsed next to me.

“You were made to destroy me,” Anastasius drawled, wrapping an arm around me as he rested his head on my chest. Through sheer force of will, I kept my body relaxed even though his words were spot-on. I was here to destroy him.

But was he meant to destroy me as well?

Chapter 26: Anastasius

I woke up well-rested. I blinked. Warm, strong arms were wrapped around my core. Claeg. I groaned, stretched, and listened to his easy, even breaths. I chanced a look over my shoulder. His expression was at peace for once. No sweat beaded upon his brow. A smile graced my lips.

Claeg was one step closer to becoming my Chosen. Mine. The thought made my heart flutter. A yawn forced its way from my chest, and I settled in closer to Claeg, breathing in his soft scent of citrus and woods. I absently pressed a kiss to his chest.

With my mind at ease, I allowed my thoughts to turn toward my task—becoming De Vita. There would be new responsibilities, such as taking care of the clan and protecting them. The former would need to be addressed eventually. Magic would dwindle, and without it we would have to return to the old way of life—scavenging for resources in the Neutral Strip. It was a consequence I was well aware of when I freed Hen a few moon turns before Claeg arrived. But the other option? Saving her wasn’t an option. As for protecting the clan… perhaps Choosing Claeg would be a step toward stability, if not peace.

I sighed, staring at my Selected. I wasn’t sure how long I laid there content in my Claeg’s arms before a familiar voice from outside drew my attention to the door.

“Stas, he has returned. We must meet.”

There was no need to ask whom he referred to. Ercan. The implication of why didn’t need to be stated either. More draconis. It was too dangerous to voice our intentions here anyway. I hummed quietly to confirm I had heard.

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