42. Desire Consumes #2
I watched as his arms wrapped around her waist, and my body nearly felt the phantom sensation of his touch—the way he had held me during our dance lessons, his fingers pressing into the small of my back, guiding me. It was a memory that lived in my muscles, an imprint I couldn't explain away.
The sight was too much to bear. I turned and walked a few paces away, my eyes fixing on a message written on the wall in flowing silver letters: Desire Consumes .
I agreed silently with the ominous sentiment, feeling its truth in the hollow ache beneath my ribs. Yes , I thought. It truly fucking does.
Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself before returning to Thatcher and Marx, who seemed completely entranced by their surroundings.
Several couples had joined Xül and Nyvora on the dance floor in a whirl of divine beauty.
For an instant, Xül’s eyes landed on mine, and his jaw tensed as his gaze raked over me. He looked absolutely livid.
Thatcher glanced at Marx, then at me. "Should I ask her to dance?" he asked me, though his eyes never left her.
Marx laughed, the sound more like a cackle.
"You know, I'm standing right here." She gave me a knowing smile before pulling him onto the dance floor by his coat.
He followed eagerly. It seemed my brother had his fair share of dance lessons as well.
Marx, on the other hand, was trying to lead him—a battle of wills set to music that had them both laughing.
Something brushed against my arm, and shivers raced up my spine at the contact. I turned to see a man with silver hair and eyes of molten gold—not a man, an Aesymar. A Legend. One that must not have been part of the Trials because I didn’t recognize him.
He smiled at me.
I couldn't help but smile back. I didn't know what had gotten into me, but I felt like I might combust at the interaction, my skin buzzing with awareness.
"The infamous Thais Morvaren," he said, his voice curling around my name. "I’m Axel. I've watched your progress through the Trials with great interest."
The warmth in my veins made colors more vibrant, sensations more acute. His pupils contracted to thin slits.
"Should I be flattered or concerned by your attention?" I asked, the words flowing easier than they should have.
His smile revealed teeth too white, too perfect. "Both, perhaps. We don't often see mortals with your... resilience." His fingers brushed against my wrist, lingering over my pulse. "Most break long before they reach this stage."
"I'm not most mortals," I countered, aware of how his body had subtly moved closer to mine.
"Clearly." His gaze traveled over my face. "One might wonder what makes you different. "
"Perhaps I'm just stubborn," I said.
Axel laughed. "Elaren is filled with the stubborn. Their bones litter the paths to ascension." His hand moved to toy with a loose strand of my hair. "No, there's something else that burns in you—something that refuses to be extinguished."
"You speak as though you've seen many Trials," I observed, trying to reclaim some control of the conversation.
"I've watched countless mortals reach for divinity," he replied, his voice dropping lower. "Some sought power, others immortality." His fingers traced the edge of my jaw, feather-light. "What do you seek, Thais Morvaren?"
The question hung between us. I wasn't sure I remembered the answer myself.
"Survival," I finally managed.
"An honest answer. Most lie, even to themselves." He stepped closer, until I could feel the chill emanating from his skin. "Survival is the most primal instinct—the one that outlasts all others. It's a worthy foundation."
The music shifted around us, its rhythm becoming more insistent, more commanding. The other guests moved with increasing abandon, as though the notes themselves were pulling away their inhibitions.
"They're all watching you," he murmured, his breath cool against my ear. "The Legends, the other contestants. They wonder how far you'll go, what limits you'll test." His fingers traced patterns on my bare shoulder, leaving trails of ice rather than heat. "I wonder too."
"And what about you?" I challenged, emboldened by whatever substance flowed through my veins. "What do Legends seek when they've already achieved immortality?"
Something hungry flashed in his eyes. "Diversion," he said simply. "When you've lived centuries, novelty becomes the most precious commodity of all."
He extended his hand, palm up—an invitation. "Would you honor me with a dance, Thais Morvaren? "
I hesitated for a moment, but finally agreed. And then he was pulling me toward the center of the floor, his hands sliding right into place—the same places that Xül had touched only days ago. The comparison was involuntary, immediate. Where Xül's touch had burned, Axel's chilled.
Dancing was exhilarating . I felt weightless, untethered.
Axel spun me wildly, and I leaned my head back, feeling my hair cascade around me.
Joy bubbled up inside me, threatening to overflow into laughter I could barely contain.
When he pulled me back against his chest, the contact was electric—a current of sensation that rippled through my entire being.
His hands gripped me tighter as we moved through the steps.
"You’re so beautiful." he murmured, his lips close to my ear. "It would be such a waste if you don't make it to ascension."
I felt like this should worry me—speaking about my mortality so openly—but in this moment, I couldn't seem to care. Death seemed like a distant concern, a problem for another version of myself. I merely nodded, agreeing with his assessment.
From the corner of my eye, a dark mass pushed through the crowd.
Before I could turn my head, I was being pulled into someone else's arms. The scent of cedar and citrus overwhelmed my senses, so familiar it made my heart stutter.
I nearly pressed myself against him without thinking, my body recognizing his presence before my mind could catch up.
"Dance with my fiancée for a moment, will you? I need to speak with my contestant." Xül's voice was cold, but his touch branded my skin.
I blinked several times, trying to clear the pleasant haze from my mind as I looked back toward Axel, who was now spinning Nyvora around. Both glared at us with confusion, perhaps irritation. In a few strides, they disappeared behind other dancers.
"What do you think you're doing, starling?" he asked, no humor in his tone .
I looked up at him, confused by his anger. "What are you doing, Warden?" I struck back. "Why aren't you dancing with your fiancée?"
I couldn't fight the petulance in my voice, nor did I try.
His eyes darkened. "I'm going to have to speak to those stylists of yours. You're practically naked," he said, pointedly not looking at me now.
"That's rich coming from you," I retorted. "Your betrothed's gown leaves even less to the imagination. At least my vital organs are covered."
"That's different," he growled.
"How so?" I challenged. "Divine privilege?"
His grip tightened on my waist. "You know nothing of divine privilege, starling"
"I know enough to recognize hypocrisy when I see it," I said. "What's the matter, Warden?"
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I don’t appreciate how he was looking at you.”
"And how was he looking at me?"
"Like you were something to be devoured," he hissed, finally meeting my gaze. "Like you were his for the taking."
"Perhaps I am," I said, the words slipping out. "Perhaps that's what I want."
Xül went silent, studying me with an intensity that made me feel utterly exposed despite the fabric covering me. "You're not yourself tonight," he finally said, his voice softer. "What did you drink?"
I laughed, the sound brittle. "Why do you care?"
"Thais." My name on his lips was a warning, a plea.
"Go find your fiancé, Warden," I said. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to return to my partner."
His hand caught mine, refusing to let go. "He's not your partner."
I glared at him. "Neither are you."
Frustration flashed across his eyes before his mask slipped back into place. His fingers loosened their grip on mine, and I seized the opportunity to pull away from him, my skin singing from where he'd touched me.
I needed distance. Space to breathe. The press of bodies, the heat of the room, the weight of his gaze—it was all too much. The sensations that had seemed so delicious moments ago now threatened to drown me.
I pushed through the crowd, threading my way between bodies.
Some part of me registered their beauty—the luminous skin, the too-perfect features, the golden eyes that trailed after me—but I couldn't bear to look at any of them.
I needed solitude to clear my mind, to douse the fire that still burned in my veins despite my best efforts to suppress it.
A servant glided past, bearing a tray of empty glasses. I reached out, my fingers catching the sleeve of their silvery attire.
"Is there a powder room?" I asked, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. "Somewhere quiet?"
The servant inclined their head, gesturing toward a doorway nearly hidden behind a statue draped in cascading wisteria.
"Through there, my lady," they murmured.
I nodded my thanks and hurried away, slipping behind the statue and through the doorway.
The moment the door closed behind me, blessed silence enveloped me like a balm.
The room was small but exquisite—walls of pale crystal that fractured light into prismatic rainbows, a basin that appeared to be carved from a single massive diamond, mirrors that reflected my image with unsettling clarity.
I moved toward them, my reflection wavering and uncertain, as though it might dissolve if I looked too closely. My skin gleamed with an inner light that hadn't been there before the ball, my eyes too bright, pupils too wide.
Breathe , I commanded silently. Just breathe .