Page 121 of Immortal Sun

“I touched her.” He looks away. “I saw. I fell.” And then his eyes lock on mine. “We always say not to look at our eyes, but I saw my own reflected in the chaos of hers. Interesting, isn’t it? Because I became lost. And the worst part? I wanted it. I wanted it all to end.”

“She’s chaos, she can’t help but show you horrors like that.”

“She’s going to destroy us all,” he says sadly. “But maybe you can enjoy the fall in the meantime.” He pats me on the shoulder and walks toward the water then drops to his knees again in the sand.

I’m so pissed I can’t think straight as I stomp toward the mouth of the cave.

Cleo is there, obviously, and she’s already on her knees, palms up as if she’s ready to worship. My steps falter.

I trip twice before actually making it to her.

Her head is bowed.

It’s so pretty.

So serene.

So weak.

Me. Not her.

I feel weak.

So instead of telling her how beautiful her hands are, how soft her hair is, and how much I want to touch it. I pull open my robe and I pause.

I see the scene set before me. The violence. Me shoving myself in her face, telling her to take me deep. Me shouting at her demanding she service me. Me. Me. Me. It’s all about me.

Not her.

Sick to my stomach, I watch in my mind’s eye as she tries to push me away.

I feel nothing but anger.

Hatred.

Want.

I hate that my heart is cold and all I want is violence, that I want to wrap my hands in her hair and tug so hard she cries.

What has happened? What is this vision? I would never. Would I? In my obsession to ascend have I become the very thing I hate?

A tear runs down her cheek.

She gives in.

She lowers her head.

No. Not this way. Not this way.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

I stare into her eyes.

I drown.

And lose myself more than I should.

I hate myself in that moment of hesitation. Forget my frozen heart, my soul screams out for me to stop, that this isn’t how it began—this isn’t how it should end.

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