Page 24 of Tears of Ruin

I was falling for him. And that realization scared me almost as much as the thought of losing him.

A gasp caught in my throat, and I pulled back as an eerie glow began radiating from his body, soft at first, like the flickering light of a dying ember. Then, in a single heartbeat, the glow ignited, blazing across his form in brilliant gold and crimson.

Fire licked at his skin, consuming him from within, but instead of burning, it pulsed with an ancient power, surging through every fiber of his being. His body lifted from the mattress as if weightless, his limbs stretching, reshaping, bending to something beyond human.

Then, all at once, he changed.

A brilliant, otherworldly bird emerged, massive and radiant, its feathers a cascade of molten gold and burning copper, each one shifting and shimmering like live flame. His wings unfurled in an explosion of light, their edges lined with the deep reds of a smoldering sunrise, the core of each feather burning with a fire that didn’t consume but radiated life itself.

The heat rolled off him in gentle waves, warming my skin but never scalding, as if the very essence of him recognized me, held back just enough to avoid harm.

His beak gleamed like obsidian, his eyes—Richard’s eyes—still the same, yet not. Brighter. Wiser. Otherworldly.

I slapped a hand over my mouth, my heart slamming against my ribs.

Terror and awe warred inside me. I was staring at an actual phoenix.

I must have hit my head harder than I thought. Years of getting my skull bounced off walls and floors had finally caught up to me, because this… this couldn’t be real.

But the heat I felt, the overwhelming presence, the sheer majesty of him told me otherwise.

I couldn’t move. My breath hitched as golden eyes—molten, piercing—pinned me in place. The air thickened, heavy with something unnameable, something ancient. The flames along Richard’s wings flickered with every slow, measured breath, licking at the air in a silent rhythm that mirrored the pounding of my heart.

I should have been afraid. I should have turned away, shielded my eyes from the impossible sight before me. But instead, my fingers twitched at my sides, drawn forward as if some unseen force was pulling me in.

The light from Richard’s body cast shadows along the walls, the rich hues of his plumage shifting between deep crimsons and blinding golds, every feather a masterpiece of living fire. I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I reached out, hesitant, disbelieving.

My fingertips barely grazed the smooth, impossibly soft feathers. Heat pulsed against my skin, not scorching but warm, like the lingering sun on skin. I let out a shaky breath, my fingers splaying wider, marveling at the way his form pulsed with quiet, restrained power.

The bird shuddered beneath my touch, the great wings flaring slightly before settling. I laughed—soft, breathless—my nerves unraveling just enough for awe to take hold.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

The phoenix moved, not away but closer, tilting its head just slightly, a motion both predatory and intimate. The space between us shrank, and for the first time in my life, I felt seen. Truly seen. As if something beyond words had settled between us, threading us together in a way I couldn’t begin to explain.

And then, in a single pulse of blinding light, the phoenix was gone.

I stumbled back, blinking against the sudden shift. The fire had vanished. The glow had dimmed. And where a magnificent creature had stood now stood a man.

Richard.

Naked.

His chest heaved, his skin glistening with residual heat, steam curling faintly from his arms. His dark hair was a tousled mess, his lips parted as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. But it was his eyes that held me captive—desperate, unguarded.

Like he was starving for me.

My breath stilled. My fingers tingled where they had touched the phoenix’s feathers, as if the fire still lingered beneath his skin.

Richard didn’t speak. He only stared, his jaw tight, his pupils blown wide.

I didn’t know how to breathe.

Not in a way that made sense, not in a way that felt like my own. My lungs had forgotten their rhythm, caught between the steady pulse of survival and the erratic stammer of something else entirely. Something sharp. Something vast.

Richard took a step forward.

I flinched, nothing dramatic, just a tightening of my muscles, the barest jerk of my shoulders. A reaction I couldn’t smother fast enough. But he saw it.

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