Page 86 of A Simple Truth

“So do I.”

“Clearly.” I clicked my tongue and shook my head. “Are we any closer to the Basalt Glass discovery?”

“Off the tiny shard you gave me? I made some progress dissecting the materials, but from what I found, you’d have to wield both raw fire and Creator Magic to make them.”

“Well, that explains the rarity.”

“Creators can’t replicate it; however, I was thinking since your blood is quite different, it might be worth a try mixing it. But I’d have to get my powers back first.” He motioned with his hands, yet nothing appeared. “Magnesium sucks.” He frowned at the empty air. “I keep hoping that I somehow grow immune to it, and that maybe this time, it won’t be as painful. Yet, each time I find myself more disappointed than before.”

“Creators get looks over brains, and it really shows...” I taunted him, but then in full seriousness added, “Never again, Xentar. I can’t keep worrying about your half-dead ass, I’ve got a busy schedule.” I smirked at him, and he chuckled, though his face was laced with the same concern I had hidden deep below.

“We need to find a way to stop her, Gideon, or Insanaria will kill us all.”

“I know, brother, I know…” I replied.

52

FINNLEAH

The long dining tables were unusually empty today, but I welcomed the rare quietness of the dining area. I rested my head on my folded arms against the table. The pale green tint of my skin was a strong indication of my very prevalent nausea.

Gods, there was a reason I avoided drinking, and now like never before, I was acutely aware of it. My head throbbed and it felt way too bright for this late in the morning.

“How do you all have so much energy?” I whispered as a few of the Ten, looking somehow all refreshed and full of vigor, sat by me with their plates full of porridge, bacon, and some fruit. Though, the usually delicious smell made me gag.

“Two or three hours of sleep is plenty for a warrior, Finn.” Gia laughed as she devoured her food.

“We’d have had more if you all stopped chit chatting all the way until dawn,” Ioanna grumped, taking a seat next to me. She seemed to share my sentiment this morning.

“Though I hear your jab, and choose to ignore it, I am glad for once I’m not the only one feeling like complete shit,” I mumbled, attempting to open my eyes, wincing as the bright light blinded me.

“Oh, don’t add me to your weak stomach club. I handle my wine just fine. I might be grumpy and tired, but I am nowhere near looking like I am about to puke up my guts,” Ioanna commented, proudly diving into her food.

“Thanks for that,” I groaned, and a few of the Ten chuckled near me. Each movement of the metal spoons and sound of their slurps were extremely loud, I winced, focusing on the heavy feeling in my body.

Alcohol poisoning was only one part of the problem. Then, there was the General. And the in-the-moment-quite-amazing-but-now-with-morning-sobriety-quite-embarrassing events of last night. That, unlike wine, I wouldn’t get out of my system anytime soon.

Perhaps, he’d disregard what happened, and we wouldn’t ever have to talk about it. Though, knowing the General, he’d never let me forget. I flinched, remembering howIcame on to him, of the things thatIhad said. I pinched the bridge of my nose, drowning in embarrassment.

Fill me up…

All of you inside of me…

I want you right now, Gideon.

Oh, fucking hell. I rubbed my temples with my palms.

I did want him, but gods, I shouldn’t have said those things. Yet, a small, pleasant shiver ran through my body as I remembered his lips on my burning skin, his thick and hardened cock against my hand, and his fingers sliding up and down my core. And it feltsogood. I couldn’t deny I wanted more—so much more.

I still did, even right now.

A mess.

I was a fucking mess.

I want all of you.The weight of the General’s recklessly spoken words dug deep within me. My sober mind was flusteredand unsure of what to think; where to put that knowledge amidst the scattered boxes, and broken doors, of my crumbling mind.

What wasall of me,other than the scars and broken promises and the never-ending guilt that now, like a slow leak, was sinking my boat, along with me?

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