Eight #3
It was a barrage of emotions all snarling and raging as they coursed down our tether.
I felt anger, red hot and hungry for vengeance, rip through his limbs and tear at his skin like a savage beast. Despair, so tortured and low, a deep guttural ache that stemmed from everywhere.
Frustration roiled from the pit of his gut and made the dark expanse of our shared consciousness sway.
Sadness, more all-encompassing and bone-deep than the rest. A gasp tore from my chest, and my hand immediately flew to my heart.
There were one or two other emotions coiling beneath those, but they were elusive.
I could feel them like a light caress, a feather dancing against my skin, but when I tried to focus on them, they simply slithered away.
It took me several breaths to find my words. “Why do you feel like this?”
His answer was humorless. “I could ask you the same.”
It never occurred to me that my emotions would have a similar effect on him. “What do I feel like?”
“You don’t know?” Rorik laughed, but it was brittle and callous. “Gods, Edira. And you wonder why I wanted you to run. All I can feel is the oppressive weight of your drive. You really weren’t going to let this go.”
“Never. After what I sacrificed to save your family, after what Orin did to me . . .”
At the mention of his name, an acrid taste flooded my tongue.
It was so heavy and riotous that it had to be both of our angers colliding.
Our roiling emotions surged together in a flux of heat that tinged my vision red.
My muscles tightened, and my body ached to find a way to let out the neglected fury screaming down our bond.
My rage fed Rorik’s just as his fed mine.
“Easy,” he murmured. “Don’t get lost in it.”
Gritting my teeth, I forced out a slow breath that burned like steam. Rorik nodded as he did the same. The overwhelming heat churning through my body cooled but never fully dissipated. Manageable for now, at least.
When he spoke again, his words were hollow. “Why do you think I didn’t want you to come back?”
“Because you couldn’t stand the sight of my beautiful face?”
A flicker of hesitation down our bond. Then it shifted to light and teasing.
“Of course. You are difficult to be around, after all.” Before I could tear apart that ridiculous answer, he scraped my palms with his nails, reminding me that my body wasn’t actually present in the expanse of our minds.
“I’m going to summon my power now. Pay attention to how it feels. ”
I went stock-still. I felt it in my heart before it crested around my hands.
It was so incredibly light and gentle. Just the smallest prickling of awareness followed by a sensation of warmth that pooled outward.
It settled in my chest and pumped out from my heart, rushing through my body with a sudden heat.
The scent of pines and moss was heavy in the air, and something cool kissed my palms.
My eyes flew open, and both of Rorik’s hands were doused in hundreds of green particles of magic.
Gently, I traced the length of his fingers, reveling in the crisp, refreshing nip of his power.
A smile stretched across my face, and I looked up at him to find him already watching me.
Magic thrummed through his eyes, turning his gaze molten, and one of those elusive emotions twining in our bond dared to rear its head.
All I could tell was that it was deliciously warm, and it sent my heart cantering. Rorik’s gaze roved to my chest.
I rolled my lip into my mouth as I leaned in closer. His nostrils flared, and he clenched his jaw. Then as abruptly as it had appeared, that mysterious feeling of his disappeared, and Rorik bent toward me with a teasing grin.
“Your breathing slipped.” With effortless quickness, he jammed two fingers in the center of my stomach, and my lungs nearly collapsed.
I yanked my hands away and wrapped my arms around my torso.
I hadn’t realized my breathing had faltered.
If anything, I’d been proud of how steady I’d managed to keep my focus, and he was the one throwing bullshit emotions my way.
As I gasped for air, I shot him a glare—and a torrent of vile sentiments down our bond.
Rorik tipped his head to the sky and laughed. “I suppose this will, in the very least, be entertaining. We’ll do more later. Go take a break.”
After finally getting my lungs in working order, I launched to my feet. “Fuck you, Rorik.”
He flashed a sinister show of teeth. “I believe when I suggested training of that nature your exact words were ‘I would never sleep with you.’ Don’t tell me you’re going back on your word?”
“Never,” I said, spouting the exact same answer I’d used back then, too.
Then I turned on my heel and left him to do whatever it was he filled his days with.
His laugh followed me through the courtyard, along with a tiny prod of awareness down our bond.
A flash of his smirk appeared in my mind, and I cursed quietly to myself.
Maybe he’d been right all along. Opening myself to him was a nightmare waiting to happen.