Page 73 of Poisoned Empire
In the end, Selene had been helpless to do anything but watch as the last of the fires licked up the cinders of the great wooden beam that had stretched from one end of the cottage to the other. The detritus of their lives together had been scattered amongst the ashes; the singed remains of a toy, bits of broken pottery, a piece of a warped comb. She’d called out Dihya’s name until she was hoarse and the sun had set on that cool autumn night. Forced to cling to the warmth that emanated from the wreck, she had curled up in their former kitchen. When the biting winds woke her in the morning, she was covered in the swirling ashes, and lying next to the broken horns of her beloved mother. Only Dihya had sported such fierce, curling horns in life. Dihya had died in that house, and taken Selene’s heart with her to the grave.
Rip.
Hoist.
Swing.
Crunch.
On and on it went, until her arms and legs trembled from the strain. Sweat dripped down her face and stained her back. She hoped it would mask her tears. She’d always prided herself on caring so little for anything that nothing could hurt her. Now she knew she was just a vulnerable hypocrite. Self-hatred poisoned her as no toxin could. She’d known love so boundless that the grief nearly killed her, and instead of honouring that love, she’d let her weakness triumph and chosen to run from it all. Dihya would’ve been so disappointed with her.
Rip.
Hoist.
Swing.
Crunch.
“Has your memory spell broken?”
Selene ignored Belisarius. She couldn’t handle him seeing her this way.
“I’ve known it was there since the night you fainted in the ballroom. I fear my gift might have weakened it.”
Did it even matter? The damage was done. Any anger at him was eclipsed by the hatred she felt for herself.
Rip.
Hoist.
Swing.
Crunch.
“Come to bed, Selene,” he whispered in her ear.
“Busy,” she replied, nearly out of breath.
Rip.
Hoist.
Swing.
Crunch.
Before she could pull the axe out of the mangled target, his larger hand grabbed hers, pulling it away from the handle. He easily twirled her around to face him, pulling her close. His eyes were black as night, and his hair took a sheen from the stars in the sky. His lips crushed hers, and her battered heart and body responded. Damn him.
“I’ll make you forget,” he promised.
Maybe a distraction was what she needed. She kissed him back.
“Don’t be nice to me,” she breathed between kisses. Lust she could handle, but she feared kindness might brand something indelible into her.
“Never.”
Belisarius woke when he sensed Selene had left the warmth of the bed. He’d taken her until they both collapsed, and then spent the night with her in his arms. The rightness of it convinced him to be brave. He watched for a time as she gazed out at the early morning sky, her expression mournful, wiping errant tears as if swatting flies, her only covering a simple shift. He hated those tears as much as he understood them.
