Page 54 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
“How can I help you?” she asked.
“Take off your clothes,” I said, running my tongue over my lips as my gaze focused on where her robes skimmed over her hips. “Or lift your skirts and bend over the bed. Now.”
"No," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Not like this."
The refusal hit me like a slap. She was my mate. Mine. The bond between us gave me certain rights, certain claims on her body that she couldn't simply deny. The darkness seized on my anger, amplifying it until it became a roaring inferno in my skull.
"You're my mate," I snarled, taking a step toward her. "You don't get to refuse me."
Even as I said it, some small part of me recoiled in horror. This wasn't who I wanted to be. Livia deserved better than this, deserved a mate who could love her without destroying her. But that voice was so small now, barely a whisper against the roar of rage that consumed everything else.
"I will not let you treat me like a vessel for your rage," she said, standing her ground even though I could smell her fear. "I am not your slave, Taveth. I won't let you use me to quiet the voices in your head."
Voices in my head. She knew. She could see what was happening to me, could see the madness eating me alive from the inside. For a moment, shame cut through the rage like a blade. I didn't want her to see me like this, didn't want her to know how far I'd fallen.
But then the darkness surged back, stronger than ever, and the shame transformed into fury. How dare she judge me? How dare she act like she understood the burden I carried, the weight of all those deaths on my conscience? She had no idea what it was like to feel the shadows whispering constantly, showing me increasingly creative ways to hurt the people around me.
The rage I had spent hours fighting to hold back exploded out of me with physical force. My shadows lashed out like whips, destroying everything they touched. The mirror shattered, sending glittering fragments across the floor. Chairs reduced to splinters. Books torn apart, their pages floating through the air like snow.
The destruction felt good. Felt right. This was what I was meant for—not saving people, not playing hero, but breaking things. The darkness purred with satisfaction, showing me how easy it would be to extend this destruction beyond furniture, beyond objects. Livia was right there, soft and fragile and so easy to break...
"You will submit," I heard myself say, the words coming from some place deep and vicious inside me. "You will give me what I need."
She was on her knees now, driven down by the force of my rage through our bond. I could feel her terror, her pain, and it only fed the hunger growing in my chest. This was power. This was what I was capable of when I stopped pretending to be something I wasn't. I slid my hand into her hair, gripping tight and forcing her head back.
“Mine,” I roared. Defiance flashed in her eyes as she glared up at me.
“Not just yours,” she said.
The door burst open, and the combined weight of her two dragon shifter mates caught me around the waist and shoulders. The three of us crashed into the stone wall on the opposite sideof the wall, driving the breath out of me before my shadows could react. I was flung over onto my front, my wrists pinned to my back by powerful hands and the roars that filled the room weren’t mine alone.
The darkness surged inside me, still demanding a release. The presumption of it—these lesser men thinking they could challenge me—sent my rage to new heights. My shadows exploded outward with enough force to send both of them flying. Sirrax hit the wall with a crack that might have been stone or bone, and my brother was flung towards the door knocking back Jalend and Marcus as they entered the room.
They weren't strong enough. None of them were. The realization filled me with dark satisfaction. I had always been the strongest, but now, with the darkness amplifying my abilities, I was something beyond their comprehension.
"You think you can stop me?" I snarled at Sirrax as he struggled to stand. "I could kill all of you without effort."
And I could. The knowledge sat in my mind like a comfortable weight. Their bones would snap so easily under my shadows. Their blood would paint these walls in abstract patterns that spoke of true artistry. The darkness showed me exactly how to do it—where to apply pressure, how to make it last, how to ensure they suffered appropriately for their arrogance.
But then Livia stood up and walked straight toward me, and the sight of her approaching made something flicker in the storm of my rage. She looked so small, so fragile, but there was no fear in her eyes now—only determination.
"Livia, don't—" Jalend started, but she ignored him.
When she reached me, she wrapped her arms around me like I wasn't a monster dripping with the desire to hurt her. The contact sent shockwaves through my system—not just physical, but something deeper. Through our bond, I felt her love for me, steady and unwavering despite everything I'd just shown her.
The darkness recoiled from that love like it was acid. For a moment, the whispers quieted, and I could think clearly enough to realize what I'd almost done. What I'd been planning to do. The horror of it crashed over me, but it was too late to stop the momentum.
I grabbed her, my grip brutal enough to leave marks, and dragged her down to the floor. The darkness was back in control, showing me exactly how to take what I needed, how to claim her body and make the voices stop. She was mine. My mate. And if she wouldn't give herself willingly, then I would simply take her.
But instead of fighting me, instead of screaming or trying to escape, she cupped my face in her hands and guided my head to her chest. The simple gesture was so unexpected, so gentle, that it cut through my rage like a sword.
"Listen to me," she whispered, her voice steady despite the terror I could feel through our bond. "Listen to my heartbeat, Taveth. Focus on that. Focus on my voice."
Her heart was beating fast but steady against my ear. The sound of it, the rhythm, seemed to create a space in my mind where the whispers couldn't reach. For the first time in weeks, there was silence in my skull.
"You're still here," she continued, her fingers threading through my hair with infinite gentleness. "You are not lost. The darkness doesn't own you. I won't let it take you."
The words hit me like physical blows. I was lost. I had been lost for so long I'd forgotten what it felt like to be found. The darkness did own me, had been consuming me piece by piece until there was barely anything left of the man I used to be.
