Page 48 of Dawn of Chaos and Fury
“Yes. No.” She reached for her hair, fingers getting caught. “You are infuriating.”
“Where is Luka?” he asked, reaching for her hands and gently untangling them.
She shrugged, reveling in his touch. She’d stopped trying to figure out how, didn’t really care. Not as half her soul settled at feeling him near.
“I have not seen him since he left,” she answered while he switched to the other hand.
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I…” She trailed off, trying to remember. The dreams got confusing with memories from now and those of the future that might never be memories at all. This part she remembered though. It was something she’d been contemplating for days. “He didn’t want me,” she finally answered, her voice nothing but a whisper.
“You are all he wanted,” Theon said tightly.
She shook her head again. “I was too much. Did too much. I set him free. That’s what we do for those we lo— Care about, right? That’s what you did. That’s what we do. That’s how?—”
Her words stalled as he finished with her hair, a large hand cupping her chin and tilting her face up to his. “He left you?”
“Yes. I mean, not yet. But in this time…” She trailed off, too lost in emerald eyes with darkness swirling, calling to her own power. “I hurt him.”
“And we hurt you,” he said tightly, releasing her chin and taking her hand.
“Where are we going?” she asked, letting him pull her along. She welcomed it. No decisions to make. Nothing to think about. Just letting him take all that from her. Not forever. Just a reprieve. As if he knew it was what she needed right now.
“Out of the cold,” he answered over his shoulder, climbing a few steps and pushing open a front door.
Everything in the house was covered in a thick layer of grime and dust, but the bones of the structure were still good. A whip of darkness wrapped around a wooden chair, snapping it into pieces before depositing them into the wood-burning fireplace.
“A little help?” he asked, looking at her expectantly.
Her brows pinched. “I do not have fire magic.”
He still held her hand, and he tugged her forward so she stood in front of him, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “I’ve seen that lightning of yours start more than one fire, clever tempest.”
“And if I start the entire house on fire?” she countered.
A palm landed on her shoulder before sliding down the length of her bare arm. Gooseflesh was left in its wake as he folded his fingers around her hand. “You can do this,” he murmured, speaking softly into her ear. “Let us help you.”
“I don’t know how to trust anyone anymore,” she whispered.
His movements paused, his breath making the fine hairs by her ear flutter against her temple.
Finally, he said, “That’s fair, Tessa. Then trust yourself.”
“I don’t trust her either. She’s too?—”
“She’s perfect,” he interjected. “Too many people have tried to change her and use her and take from her.”
“And now?” she asked, her voice wavering as she waited for his answer.
“And now she is free to become whoever she wishes to be,” he replied, once again lifting her hand. “She gets to decide who is worthy of her. The only reason you don’t trust yourself is because you were constantly told you weren’t enough.”
A fine mist of darkness hovered, waiting, and she sucked in a sharp breath as she let her power rush to the surface. Lightning arced, just as he’d said it would, and that darkness guided it to the hearth, flames jumping to life.
And she stared as the fire danced, free yet controlled.
Wild yet content.
Fierce yet balanced.
