Page 73 of Twisted Bonds

His bicep is like a burning coal beneath my trembling fingers. I force myself to lift my gaze back up to his piercing stare, feeling immediately overwhelmed by the intensity and power emanating from him, despite Sunder’s shield around him. I wonder if he could break out of it if he tried. My heart races with a mix of fear and desire as I try to steady my nerves and meet his unwavering gaze.

“What are you doing?” he asks, breathless.

I stifle a gasp. Abort. Abort.

Shaking my head, I yank my hand away as if burned on a hot stove, turning to leave. Stupid. Shame floods my body, causing my skin to flush with a burning heat. I’ve misread everything between us.

Tairyn’s hand grips my shoulder, spinning me back to face him. Our bodies collide with a sharp jolt and he traps me in his intense gaze. With a finger under my chin, he tilts my head up, demanding the truth. His eyes bore into mine with a fierce intensity as he growls, “Why did you come here, Mira? Tell me the truth.”

I pull my face from his hand, refusing to make eye contact. “It’s nothing. I-I’m sorry.”

I turn to walk away, feeling as rejected as a teenage girl whose crush has turned her down. But before I can make it across the room, he speaks so softly that I have to strain my ears to hear him.

“I asked the Gods to break my bonded bargain with Yurghen, after I realized what he truly demanded of me. Their response was essentially to laugh at my stupidity. I can’t say they’re wrong.”

His words hang in the air, making me stop dead in my tracks. I turn slowly, my hazel eyes meeting his green ones in a silent exchange. His words are a confession, a spilling of secrets that he would usually tuck neatly away. This vulnerability is foreign on him, a stark contrast to the arrogant man I’ve come to know and, dare I admit it, appreciate.

My voice comes out as a whisper, curiosity defeating my embarrassment. “What did Yurghen demand of you?”

He swallows, running a hand through his perfectly groomed hair. It leaves a few strands sticking up in a way that’s endearingly disheveled. His eyes dart away from mine, as if he’s afraid of what I might see in them.

“Everything,” he says finally, his voice filled with a deep-seated bitterness that makes my throat tighten. “He demanded everything of me.”

My heart skips a beat at the raw pain in his voice. “But you got your Chroma back.”

“A purple curse that gives little and takes much. These visions…”

“Are they bad?” I find myself moving towards him, the magnetic pull too strong to resist. The room is suddenly too tight, the air too thin.

He nods stiffly, his face a mask of pain and defeat. “They’re overwhelming. I had one about you. The night you first cast misfortune on me.”

His eyes are far away, as if remembering. I think back to the way he scrambled away from me, crawling on the floor with eyes glazed over. The pain twisted on his face. “What was it?”

His weight shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another. “It was many things. Many outcomes. I don’t know which decisions will take me where. But I know who I want to get there with. For now, though, I think we both could use some rest.”

His eyes, usually guarded and distant, meet mine once again. But this time, there is a glimmer of something new shining within their depths. It’s a feeling I’ve never seen before in him, but it sends my heart into a frenzy of fluttering anticipation.

I murmur out some words that sound something like good night as I see myself out.

He is a flame flickering in the dark.

And I am but a moth, helpless against him.

thirty-six

Sunder

Steam wafts around me, thick and cozy, a veiling mist that turns the sprawling bathroom into an ethereal haven. I sink lower in the claw-footed bathtub, muscles uncoiling from the relentless sparring with Bobble.

The water ripples as I exhale, a silent testament to the calm I’m desperate to find. Yet, my mind is a tempest, churning with memories of Cor’than and the night everything fell apart.

“Should’ve known better than to trust him, then. I certainly know better now,” I mutter to the porcelain, tracing the intricate tattoos on my forearms.

The memories are like shards of ice, jagged and cold, piercing through the fog of warmth surrounding me. I was Dan’thiel then, King of Valenfall. The night air was still, too still, when my slumber shattered under the distant cries of terror slicing through the castle.

“Guards!” My voice had been iron then, commanding. I sprang from my bed, the sheets a tangled mess at my feet and sword in hand, before my eyes fully cleared the sleep. But silence answered my call—a heavy, ominous quiet that suffocated hope.

“Where are you, blasted fools?” I growled, stalking through my chambers. My keen eyes, finally clear of the sleep fog, cut through shadows, seeking out threats in every corner.

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