[THIS STORY WILL BE TAKEN DOWN ON SEPTEMBER 30, 2024]
He had hunted me, captured me, and locked me in a tower.
Season 3 'Of Crows and Thorns'
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While in RISING, Tabitha discovers something peculiar that may assist Nelle in her plan to escape the...
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I couldn't control the shaking in my limbs, the shudder that rattled my bones. My smoldering lungs ached and my chest heaved as I dragged oxygen into my airways. With every breath, every twitch of my quivering muscles, black waves of barb-tipped pain threatened to shut down my mind. I steeled myself against the torturous agony, against the cruelty that set my flesh on fire to keep hold of Nelle's gaze from where I knelt.
Nelle stared, wide eyes shining with incredulity. She took a tentative step closer. The tips of her dainty toes curled on the rough, uneven cobblestones. "You love me?"
Craning my neck back, I gazed up at the sky. At the shimmer of starlight amongst the swathe of black. Internally, I groaned. I had needed something to cling to as I endured the savagery inflicted on my body while I'd protected her. But what the hells had I been thinking saying it out loud?
Admitting it to myself wasn't a revelation.
Saying it aloud was.
My love for Nelle had been an unwavering flame flickering against the darkness of my cold, black heart. I'd ignored it, pretended it hadn't existed, and tried to smother the flames with hostility. But it had remained steadfast and burned true. From the moment I'd stepped into her home to fulfill the Alverac's amendment on her 19th birthday, she'd brought warmth to my frosty heart with that crooked grin of hers and beautiful soul. And with every day that I'd spent with her as a young woman, every day without her too, those flames glowed brighter, swallowing up the darkness.
I tipped my head back down, clenching my jaw tightly just a burst of fresh agony clawed through my body. The whip's lash thrumming with dark magic had ripped through my adamere armor as easily as if it were parchment. My back felt like a flayed mess and rivulets of stinging hot blood slithered downward to drip over my pants.
Nelle's astounded gaze met mine. Her gray irises blended into her pale complexion. A cool breeze picked up and kicked the long skirt of her dress. There was a windswept look to her, the spiraled tendrils wavering around her face, ethereal with the moonlight gilding her figure, the gold from the Keep, and the feathered brushstroke of blue from the wildfyre.
Her expression hadn't changed. She was still reeling from my confession and I couldn't get a read on her reaction. Under my skin, her emotions were quiet like a slow-running brook.
The words came out raw and husky. "I love you, Nelle Wychthorn."
Overwhelmed by the truth falling from my lips I closed my eyes.
My love for Nelle was savage and violent.
Merciless and fierce.
I loved everything about her.
All the sweetness wrapped up in a tiny package of volatile meanness. The fiery sensuality with which she burned. The wicked tongue that sliced like a blade when she turned it upon me. I even loved the entitled side to her, the Wychthorn princess who'd never had to lift a finger her entire life, who hadn't ever sullied her hands by washing the dishes or, gods forbid, picking up after herself. I was innately connected to this girl on so many different levels, but the one truth about us rose above them all. Stripped of those connecting threads, I'd still have fallen in love with her and sought to earn a place by her side.
