Heart of Torment (Breath of Mist Book 2)

T W E N T Y E I G H T - Ariana

His words echoed in my mind, as if my brain were a chamber made to hold and recite them over and over.

It is my mate. It is you... It is my mate. It is you... It is my mate. It is...

"This isn't possible." The words were a numb whisper on my lips as I stared at the image of myself with pointed ears. The painter captured the small curve of her lips, the glint in her eyes. She was happy in his arms. And he... I tore my gaze from it, staring wide-eyed at the ground, trying to process the enormity of everything. "I am not her."

"But you are." Clause came around me till he stood before me. A finger nudged my chin up, forcing my gaze to lock with his. "The way you move, the way you speak, even your conjuring. The way it feels to be in your presence. You are my mate. I feel it. My blood sings at your existence." His hand moved, tenderly brushing against my cheek. "And I think you can feel it too."

I stepped back, breaking contact with him. He was right, partially. There was always something strange moving through the air when we were near one another, when he had kissed me. It was not normal, nor was it right. Whatever tied me to him, I did not want. I rejected it.

I looked at the painting once more. Clause's eyes were warm and welcoming in it. He seemed different. "Are you the same person as the one depicted in that image?"

"It is a painting of me," he stated, eyes observing me as the wheels in my head spun.

"But are you the same?" I glanced at him. "The person in this painting feels warmer, hopeful almost. You, on the other hand, have a brutality that is not conveyed in the canvas."

He took a step towards me, and I moved away. "When I lost you, things changed." Gray eyes burned into mine.

I caged myself with him, with this secret. It was difficult not to choke on the disgust. The Sidhe King as well as the Spirit itself were cruel and twisted beings and I was never more than a pawn. In all of this, my fate was sealed. I was something to be used.

I tried to force a steady voice, but it wavered. "So. If you are correct and my soul is the same one you claim it to be-"

"It is," he cut me off. "I feel it in every ounce of my being."

"Then in my past life, I fell in love with someone who no longer exists, mated someone who is no longer real."

His gaze narrowed. Tension connected us, the cord amazingly strong as it coiled around my wrists and ankles, tying me to him. It angered me. For the Spirit played with my fate with like this.

That resentment fueled me.

I spoke the next words with certainty. "I have said it before. My heart is not yours."

He tilted his head, viewing me with calculating eyes. "It is, Ariana. You are mine, and I, in turn, am yours. We will always be that."

"I do not want this version of you," I boldly stated, and the room grew colder, darker.

"Would you have the other?" He glanced at the painting, at the man he no longer could be. The person he himself destroyed.

"After last night?" I shook my head gently. "It is impossible."

His lip curved slightly, as if not swayed by a challenge. "You will come around. You will see. Our mating was a unique ceremony, changing us on a mystical level. Nothing can shadow the bond we share. It is eternal. "

"Except perhaps the most powerful conjuror can." I stared at him pointedly. "You shadow that bond by your actions." My back straightened. "What you forced me to do, the way you took an innocent boy's life without a second thought, it is disgusting. No amount of pain or history from your past excuses those actions. If my soul loved you in another life, then I am truly saddened to witness the monster you have become."