A Battle of Pride and Desire

Chapter Nineteen

The concept of being able to save lives came over Brigette in waves. The power of it all was like a drug, some moments she felt like she could do anything in the world, others when she felt like all she could do was vomit. She asked Taran to stay with her tonight, putting her pride aside momentarily so she wouldn't be alone. As a child, her mother had spoken of her constant desire to change whatever fate had willed. She called Brigette her "little heroin" whenever she practiced spells to will money to the family or when she would lock her parents in a room together if they were fighting. Her mother's idea of her was a flattering one, she truly believed Brigette was the main character of her own novel. How right she was now and she didn't even know it. Brigette was under no illusion that her mother would probably fall out of her bed if she heard of what Brigette was getting up to these days. Maybe she would be excited for Brigette and would encourage the dangerous feelings Brigette harboured towards her gift.

Taran was changing into nightclothes beside her, not bothering to go into the adjacent bathroom. He removed his shirt with painful slowness and revealed his stomach that seemed to be carved by the Gods Themselves. His stomach was slightly paler than his arms, but on his ribs Brigette could see a slight scar in the shape of a Y. It was old, had probably been there for decades, but its pale marking stood out to Brigette as she shamelessly watched him change.

"Like what you see?" Taran teased, startling her.

Brigette was tired of acting frigid so said, "I've seen better."

That was a lie and all he had to do was enter her mind to know as much. But he didn't, she couldn't feel him clawing his way in.

"How did you get that scar?" she asked.

Taran looked down to his rib cage as if forgetting it was even there. He rubbed a thumb along it and Brigette shivered despite herself.

"I had forgotten about that," he smiled. "A gift from Conor when we were children."

Brigette frowned slightly, there was so much she didn't know about Taran. She had been living with him for a while now and still couldn't say much about who he was a person. The very essence of Taran was a mystery, she didn't even know what his real personality was. Where was his father? Although he never said it, Brigette knew he feared assuming the throne. In fact, she was certain if another man came along and offered to take it instead, Taran would let him. But why? It's not like he didn't have ideas, didn't love Magmella.

Taran pulled the bed covers aside and settled in beside a fully clothed Brigette. She was painfully aware of his half nakedness beside her.

"I'll sleep on the floor," she said and pulled the bed covers off.

She quickly grabbed her night dress from the press and ran into the bathroom to change. She regretted picking the ugly pink night dress and not the sexy blue one she knew was lying in the bottom of her press. She sighed and slipped into the dress and looked at herself in the mirror. For all her newfound vanity, she still looked awfully plain. Tentatively, she opened the door to her room to find Taran throwing pillows and blankets on the floor for himself. Brigette half ran half skipped to him and held out a hand over his pillow to stop him.

"I asked you to sleep here, I'll sleep on the floor."

Taran shrugged, "I had assumed we would share the bed, but I forgot it's-"

"It's what?"

"Well, that it's you," he scratched his neck awkwardly.

"What do you mean by that?" Brigette folded her arms across her chest, making sure her breasts looked nice and perky.

She didn't miss the way his gaze flickered down momentarily and she wanted nothing more than to hear what he was thinking, but he would feel her coming in which would be embarrassing in its own right.