Harder.
Because if this is ruin, then let me drown in it.
Let me burn.
His hand slides down my spine, not tender but claiming. His tongue sweeps in to tangle with mine, pulling a whimper from deep in my throat—one I don’t have time to swallow before he drinks it down like it belongs to him. And maybe it does. Maybe it always did.
There’s violence in the kiss, yes—but not the kind that wounds. The kind thatscars. The kind that brands. The kind that saysI see you, even when I’m trying to vanish into nothing.
His shadows coil around us, not as weapons this time that hope to hold me back, but a barrier—shielding this moment from the chaos crackling outside. From the ache of past choices and the weight of unspoken things.
He kisses me like he’s starving.
Like I’m the thing he’s tried to resist, and now that he’s tasted, he knows there’s no going back.
And I?
I kiss him like I want to bruise his soul.
Like I want him toneverforget this second. This clash of fire and fury and broken devotion made whole by something as fragile and unforgivable as desire.
When the kiss breaks, we’re both breathless.
"We are not separate," Cassius whispers, his shadows dancing around us like living smoke. He speaks loud and clear, without riddles or unnecessary bickering to try to explain why my actions should be questioned. It’s the only way I can comprehend through this spiraling thought process that wishes to consume me. "A king requires more than a throne. You needpurpose.Connection."
I want to argue.
Desperate to make him understand that my rage is valid in a way no one else will grasp.
But I also know this isn’t the time or place for the matter.
Instead, I mutter, "Your breath is shit."
It’s the most random thing I could say when I’ve been both distant and acting completely different than my usual self, but it seems to work in breaking the tension between us.
His laugh is unexpected.
A sound of genuine amusement that cuts through the realm's oppressive atmosphere.
"We will discuss everything," he states with absolute certainty. "Every. Fucking. Detail. But for now, I need you to trust that we don’t wish to hold you back. We’re on your side, no matter where that will become after all of this."
My response is a half-hearted grumble, but we both know it's more performance than genuine resistance.
He’s right. He’s not my enemy…none of them are. I have to tame this rage…or identity? I just need to balance things until we get to the gates of the academy. Survive what’s ahead that will surely test us.
I pull back my aura, calming down my emotions, knowing despite my desperate urge to leave them behind, that they aren’t the source of my internal dilemma or treacherous agony.
With a huff, it conceals completely, allowing the others to breathe.
The others recover slowly.
Nikki's breathing stabilizes as Zeke's frost magic continues its protective dance. Atticus looks simultaneously aroused and concerned—a combination that's becoming our new normal.
"I can't tell if I want to fuck you or fight you," he mutters to me as he comes to our side, clearly impressed that Cassius was able to I guess “man-handle me”.
Zeke's response is blunt.
"Probably both. That's usually how it works with this group."
