Page 29 of Bright Blinding Ruin

Around me, things are blurry. The people walking by have no faces. The only things in true focus are little Rey and my dad, and about twenty feet around them.

My heart swells when I see my dad kneel beside little Rey and point to where a baby elephant is with her mom inside the enclosure. They’d just gotten fed, so they were active and close to the observing area. We were lucky; you don’t always get so fortunate when you go from exhibit to exhibit.

It’s so much to see, so many overwhelming emotions inside me, that it becomes difficult for me to stand. I don’t feel grounded, like I could just float up into the sky and never come back down. A weird sort of weightless. So I do something without thinking; I reach behind me and place my hand on the strong chest I know is there.

Touching him grounds me, keeps me from falling or floating. I hold my breath as I watch the little girl clamor for another picture. My heart skips a beat when I hear his laugh and see the way the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Oh, God,” I whisper, unable to say anything else. I don’t want to look away from my dad, but if I don’t, I feel like I might cry. Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s dumb, but I never thought… everything might be fuzzy around the edges, but being here, seeing him again, reminds me of everything I used to have.

And everything I lost.

I turn away from the memory, following the route my hand took in that I curl against Invictis’s chest. Lower chest, I should say, since he’s so damned tall. My breathing comes out short and quick, in erratic bursts. I’m incredulous, but it’s an overwhelming feeling, and I don’t know how to handle it.

Invictis does not move away, but with what he says next, it’s clear he’s confused. “You said this was where you would want to be. Have you changed your mind?”

“No,” I quickly say, turning my head back to my dad and little Rey. The memory must’ve changed around me while I was too busy hiding myself against Invictis’s chest, because now we’re at the cheetah exhibit, trying to spot where the big cats are hiding.

Fuck. My heart hurts.

“No,” I say again, softer this time. “It’s just—” I drag my eyes away from little me and my dad, angling my head back so I can meet the blue gaze staring down at me. It’s when I realize how close we are, how tightly I’m huddled against him, how I still have my hand flat against his chest—though it’s more like his upper abdomen now.

He is not a person. The form before me is a lie. He is a weapon of mass destruction, of hate and madness. I remind myself of that, and yet I still can’t move away. It’s like I’m frozen there, unable to do anything, and that includes thinking logically.

There is no hatred in the sapphire orbs that study me, and his voice is quiet when he asks, “Just what?”

There are dozens of ways I could respond, but I settle with whispering, “It’s too much.” I’m slow to drop my eyes, letting my gaze roam over his chest—he’s wearing the same clothes he wore in the last dream: dark jeans and a t-shirt that hugs his upper body a bit too much. It’s… well, not to sound stupid but it’s distracting is what it is.

Finally, I tear my eyes off Invictis and look back to my dad and little Rey as I say, “And it’s not enough.” Though I know I should pull away, I can’t. My hand stays firmly pressed against him, like I need to feel him there.

“How can it be too much and not enough?” He actually sounds thoughtful. Maybe he does want an answer. Maybe he just can’t wrap his head around complicated human emotions—but that can’t be completely true, can it?

I’ve heard his anger. Seen it for myself first hand. He’s been annoyed, exasperated, and frustrated with me… and a weapon shouldn’t feel any of those emotions. A weapon is just that: something that kills. Something that hurts.

The scene around us changes again, this time to an enclosure in one of the buildings, where the exotic birds are. My dad and little Rey stand before one of the biggest enclosures, ooh-ing and ah-ing at all the brightly-colored birds.

“Ever since he died,” I say, staring at the back of my dad’s head, “things haven’t been the same. I’ve been so lost.” Slowly, I turn my head back to Invictis, though I stare now at my hand that still rests comfortably on his abdomen.

And then I admit something I don’t think I’ve ever admitted before: “I’m still lost.”

I am. I’m being pulled in a million different directions, told what to do without really being guided. I’m confused and bewildered… and I’m scared. I’m a nobody. A nineteen-year-old girl shouldn’t have to shoulder the burdens of an entire kingdom. I shouldn’t have to fight an ancient weapon just to stop it from annihilating everyone.

I’m drowning and I don’t know if I’ll ever reach the surface.

The last thing I want to do is look up at Invictis after admitting that aloud, but when he says not a single word, I do just that. My head angles back, and my gaze flicks up to his face.

Astute confusion turns into suspicion on his face, and just like that the memory fades around us. In the blink of an eye we are back on the rooftop in the middle of the night, near the edge, where I left my ramen cup. Something in him must snap, because his hand finds my neck and he jerks me away from him.

“What is this?” he hisses, his lips hardly moving with the whispered words. His large body curls over mine, and I’m trapped between the rooftop’s knee-high wall and his body, hishand around my neck. “What kind of game are you playing, Rey?”

When he says my name, I swear I can close my eyes and picture him as nothing more than an annoyed tattoo on my wrist, flashing gold every time he speaks. Of course, it finally hits me: he’s not squeezing my neck. Not hurting me. He’s just…

He’s just holding me.

“Game?” I echo faintly. “This isn’t a game to me.”

His fingers clamp a little harder around my neck as he jerks me forward, stopping me short of colliding with his body. “Now who’s the liar? Perhaps your attempt at humanizing yourself would sway a lesser being, but I am more than that. I am more than you. You will not be the cause of any change in me.”

“So sure of yourself,” I whisper, “but what makes you so confident any of this was about you?”

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