Chapter 6 - Aurela
When I wake up, the first thing I see is Soren sitting in a chair, his eyes intent on me. I blink, settling back down into my mind, and realizing that I’m most certainly dead.
I was in the forest with Tara, the flames all around me. There’s no way that I’m not dead right now. Especially considering the fact that Soren is here. This is the kind of thing I’ve dreamed about every night since the last time I saw him.
So, I believe that I’m dead.
That is, until I try to lift my arm and find it trapped, metal clanking loudly against whatever I’m attached to.
The physical sensation is jarring, and I turn my head to look.
My muscles are sore, like I’ve been in this same position for far too long.
Finally, I spot a set of handcuffs around my wrists, looped through the bed, keeping me in this position.
I look back at Soren, feeling panic rise up in my body. I know he would never hurt me, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling trapped.
“What—” I try, but my voice is too hoarse to speak, either from Tara taking all my strength or from the daemon smoke forcing its way into my lungs. “Wha—”
Soren rises slowly from his chair, keeping his gaze on me as he moves across the room.
He’s looking at me like I’m a bomb, about to go off at any moment.
Moving methodically, he opens one of the cabinets, pulls out a metal camping mug, and fills it with water before crossing the room and coming back to me, holding it carefully so none of it sloshes out.
It’s painful to look at him. To think of that last conversation with him.
When he told me he didn’t want to be with me.
Forcing my mind out of the past, I look around, taking in my surroundings instead.
We’re in what looks like some sort of one-room cabin.
There’s a small wood-fire oven in the corner, a little love seat across from it.
There’s a sparse kitchen with an old-fashioned refrigerator and some cooking space, and a little window with red curtains above the counter, but they’re drawn tight, so I can’t see out of them.
If there’s a front door, it must be somewhere behind me.
I’m in a small bed, arms bound over my head, tied to the wooden headboard behind me.
Soren leans down, bringing the cup to my lips. He watches me carefully as I drink, the water cooling and stinging at once on my sore throat, which must be raw from the smoke and the heat. If I could get my hands out of the handcuffs, I might be able to use my healing magic to make it feel better.
But the look on Soren’s face tells me there’s not an ounce of him considering letting me out of them.
When I’ve finished drinking the water, he sets the cup on the nightstand. Giving me a blank look with a hard stare, he asks, “Did you start the fire last night?”
The question hits me right in the middle of the chest, knocking the breath out of me when it’s already hard for me to breathe.
He thinks I may have started the fire last night.
Last night…my eyes dart to the windows, and I see it’s dark.
Either he’s covered them with something, or I’ve already been out for a full day.
I tug against my handcuffs a bit and feel how tightly they’re tethered to the bed. Soren tracks every little movement.
His gaze makes my skin prickle. My body is already reacting to the feeling of being near him, my core growing tighter, heat starting to pool between my legs.
My mind pulls me away from that line of thought, reminding me of Soren’s veiled accusation. He actually thinks I’m capable of something like that.
“Aurela,” he practically growls, and I swallow at the sound of my name on his lips, trying not to show how much it affects me. He stands, starting to pace beside the bed. “Answer me—did you start that fire?”
I bite my bottom lip, then rasp, “Can I have more water?”
His nose twitches, and he gives me a long look, but he turns with a sigh, grabbing the cup and taking it back over to the sink.
I don’t have much time, so I move quickly, heating my hands up as much as I can with the magic. Instantly, the heated metal burns my skin, and I pull back, cooling it off. Melting the cuffs was a bad idea to start.
Instead of trying to melt them off, I close my eyes and think into the handcuffs, using my brain to map out the interior, finding the pins and pushing on them until there’s a tiny click, and they come loose.
That, unfortunately, gets Soren’s attention, and he whips around from his spot at the kitchen sink, the water from the cup splashing over the kitchen counter as he turns toward me, seeming to know right away what I’m doing.
I use what magic is available to me—now that I’m using it, it’s starting to feel like I’m scraped clean—and force it into my muscles, boosting my movement off the bed and toward the door.
Still, when my hand lands on the doorknob, Soren is already on me, his arms encircling me, pulling me back into him.
I gasp at the contact, at the way it zaps through me, wholly electric and consuming.
All this time and space between us was good for one thing—it allowed me to forget the magic of his touch. The feeling that consumes me, like it’s only right for him to have his hands on me, is intoxicating.
“Aurela,” he breathes hotly into my ear, making me shiver again. “Don’t fight me. You won’t win.”
I open my mouth, wanting to tell him that he’s wrong—that I’m stronger than he thinks. That with my magic, I could hurt him and get away instantly.
But there’s something wrong with my magic right now. It’s not right there, bubbling under my skin like it normally is.
And I know it must have something to do with what happened with Tara in the woods.
Five minutes later, he’s wrestled me back onto the bed. I’ve mostly let him, breathing hard and desperately trying to redirect my mind to other thoughts so my heat doesn’t start right here and now.
When he’s done, he staggers back, shaking his head and looking at me like he doesn’t even know me.
He doesn’t. I’m not the same girl I was when he decided he didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. The years have changed me. Physically, obviously, but in more ways than that.
“Did. You. Start. The. Fire?” Soren grits out.
I press my lips together, sitting up as well as I can against the back of the bed. “Fuck you,” I spit. “Untie me!”
“No!” He throws his hands in the air, gesturing wildly to somewhere outside the cabin, his eyes wide, wholly shocked at the way I’m talking to him. “Do you even understand what’s at stake here?”
“I understand that I want nothing to do with you, Soren, and you need to let me go right now.”
“I can’t, Aurela. Not until you answer some questions.”
He seems to force himself to take a deep breath, turning for a second, and I watch the muscles in his back shift under his shirt as he does. I force myself to look away, not to focus on his strength, on the body that’s continuing to change without me, too.
Back when I had access to his body, he was a teenager with burgeoning muscles and facial hair. Now, everything is done developing, and I missed all of it.
“What were you doing with Tara in the woods?” I hear him say, and when he turns back around, his face is neutral, like he’s only just managed to get control of himself. The emotions from earlier—hurt, temptation—are gone.
“It’s none of your business where I was, or what I was doing,” I bite back, body shaking with rage. Where the hell does he get off, kidnapping me and trapping me here? “This is a crime, Soren. You need to let me go.”
“Why are you being so cagey about what you were doing?”
“Because I don’t have to answer to you! What is this—is Xeran just going to be Declan again? With a little group that can run around and do whatever they want?”
Soren’s face darkens, and his jaw goes tight as he looks at me. Apparently, mentioning Xeran is setting him off. When he says nothing, I stare straight ahead at the side of the refrigerator and try to reason with him.
“My parents will be wondering where I am, Soren. Do you remember them? Do you remember who my family is? They’re going to be furious when they find out you’re holding me hostage. Let. Me. Go.”
To my surprise, Soren doesn’t say anything, though he doesn’t come closer to undoing my bindings. Instead, he crosses the room to where I almost can’t see him, grabbing a coat from the wall and pulling it on quickly, rage written all over his face as he does.
“I’m going,” he says. “And when I come back, you’d better be ready to fucking answer me, Aurela.”
“Wait,” I protest. “Soren—you can’t just leave me here—”
But he opens the door and slams it behind him before I can even finish what I’m saying.
I sit in the quiet of the cabin, entire body trembling, trying to figure out what in the hells just happened.
And more importantly, how I’m going to get the fuck out of here.