Page 4 of Princess Avenged

“Ana, I’d do anything you asked right now to ease your pain.”

“Then tell me Phil is alive!” Backing up, I run into a coffee table and drop down to my ass.

He pulls me back to my feet and looks into my eyes. “I’ll do anything for you, except lie.”

Pulling away from Flame, I pace again, sprinting now, swinging my arms to strike whatever lies in my way—furniture, walls, my own body. Objects in the room crash to the floor. Ming vases, Dresden porcelains, Venetian glass. Precious works of art barely register as many shatter against the stone floor or crack over Persian rugs.

Timur’s death was deeply sad, but nothing like this. My raw insides have wound up like tight springs. Any moment I’m going to explode. And the pain of that will certainly kill me. Good. I want it. I deserve it.

“Hey!” Flame grabs me, pulling me close.

I struggle against him, but then my body gives in, collapsing for a moment as my chest heaves.

“I hate to see you like this,” he says. “Please, tell me how I can help you.”

The caring tone of his words draws me closer to him. My pain is acute, but his voice reminds me I’m not the only one affected by this horrible news. Giving up my struggle, I wrap my arms around Flame’s strong torso. “You loved Phil too.”

Nodding, he pulls me in closer. “I’ve never felt pain like this.” He looks up to the ornately decorated plaster ceiling, then back down again. “Not even when my family died in that fire.”

Newfound pain stabs me, when I see the truth in Flame’s blue eyes. We’ve both lost people we loved. We both know how profound loss feels. But all my previous pain doesn’t compare to what I’m feeling right now.

My body winds up again, wanting to run, and I squirm in Flame’s arms. I want to pound things. To do anything to distract me from what I’m feeling. It’s like I’m caught in an endless loop, cycling between numbness, pain and disbelief. Not wanting to remain in any of the three states for more than an instant.

“Make it go away.” I break out of his hold. “Please, Flame! Make everything go away.”

“Darling. I would do anything to do that.” He lights a match, but instead of tossing it, he extinguishes the flame with the fingers of his other hand. The scent of his burning skin wafts toward me. He lights another, but this time tosses it into an urn, watching it fly. Before it lands, he repeats the action, sending an arc of lit matches through the air.

I haven’t seen him obsess over lighting matches in a while. My anguish is amplifying Flame’s, and that makes me feel even worse. I drop into a crouch.

“What can I do?” he asks, his voice sounding desperate.

“Distract me.” I tug on my hair. “Help me forget.”

Tucking his hands under my arms, he pulls me out of my crouch and looks into my eyes. “How? Tell me how to help you forget?”

My heart is racing, my blood surging now with the force of a powerful waterfall and threatening to burst my veins.

“Fuck me.” I blurt the only thing that might distract me right now.

“What?” Shock paints his face as he takes a step back. “Now? Really?” He lights another match, letting it burn out against his fingertips.

My heart stutters, then races again. Even I’m shocked by my suggestion, one that erupted from my lips before my brain could catch up.

“Do you think fucking is a good idea?” He glances toward the door.

“I don’t want to think.” I shake my head. “I want to escape. To escape from my mind, from my feelings. I want you to help me feel something different. I want you to fuck me so hard it erases everything else.” The scent of his burnt flesh hits my nostrils again. “Burn me, Flame. Hurt me if that’s what it takes.”

Chapter

Three

Phil

Air hits my lungs. Gasping, I squint open my eyes.

My hand is holding a wooden bolt, dripping with blood. My blood.

If I weren’t seeing this stake, feeling it in my hand, and smelling my own scent wafting from the dripping red liquid, I wouldn’t believe it was possible.

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