Every time felt like the first. Her silken hair between his fingers, her velvety skin against his, and the incomparable taste of her lips. She smelled of vanilla and amber and something hot. Something powerful.
And he’d become a mindless, helpless addict.
She lived in his thoughts, his heart, his mind, and though she’d invaded every waking moment of his day, he would gladly give her every second. Cut off his arm if she willed it. Crawl across broken glass merely to see her lips lift in a smile. He’d planted a whole garden of noxcore simply because they always bloomed for her.
They knew all these nights sneaking around in the garden and in his bed were sure to damn their souls, and yet, theycouldn’t stop. He’d even kept their secret tryst from Brennen, and they told each other everything.
That night, as they lay in his bed, he thought of the future, and how he could possibly do right by her. How they could shape this terrible situation into something tangible. Something real.
Because he needed it. He neededher.
Emmery glanced up at him, breathless from pleasure. He took one of her flushed cheeks in his hand and skimmed his thumb along her cheekbone. She really was something else. Extraordinary, brilliant, gorgeous, soft, kind, and tenacious. Completely and unfairly perfect.
No amount of words could do her justice. No one fulfilled him like she did. She spoke the same language that swam in his blood and had always been fluent.
“Why are you staring at me?” he asked. He pulled the quilt over her bare shoulder and held her tighter. Her soft body moulded to his, like the sea met the shore. A smile crept onto his lips, because when he looked at her it was impossible not to. “I can hardly blame you, but do let me in on the secret.”
Then she beamed up at him, and his chest filled with her light. “I love you, Dez,” she said softly. So matter-of-factly.
He grinned like an absolute fool, his eyes suddenly wet.
Because no one had ever loved him. Not likethis. Not in a way that didn’t make him feel like a burden.
He kissed her nose, her forehead, took her lips, stole that kiss, and he placed his heart in her hands. Everything he had to give. Because he was hers, and she could do what she willed with him.
“I love you, Emmery. More than you could possibly know.”
It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had.
???
She wore that brilliant gold vestige like a gown, like a crown, like starlight. She had always been a vision, his fallen angel, but now a mere glance at her and his head emptied of all thoughts.
Only days ago, they’d been beckoned in perfect unison and passed their trials. As flames danced at her fingertips, his own ice hummed in his veins, and their magic gravitated toward one another, like they were meant to fold into each other.
So, he made a choice, mostly but not solely out of desperation, because he’d surrendered his heart to her long ago. However, now his devotion also belonged to another, and only one thing stood in his way
Thevotai.
???
His father’s smile struck him silent. Never before had he smiled at him, because he’d never been the source of his father’s joy, but rather the reason for his anguish, headaches, and fury.
In exchange for thevotaito be broken, he’d agreed to don the shiny silver crown with etchings of ancient languages he had yet to learn. Sure he knew Sellidic and snips of Calmalian, but infinite knowledge waited out in the world. Maybe he and Emmery could learn it together.
“With this, we can finally be a united front against this corrupt world. We can rule at each other’s sides, my son,” his father said from behind him. At one time he would have given anything for his father to call him that and claim ownership of him. But now, he only wanted her. Wanted Emmery. As long as he had her, everything would be alright.
His father placed the crown on his head, but the metal wasn’t cold. In fact, it didn’t even feel like metal. Strange.
“I’m relieved you understand how I feel about her, Father. She’s everything to me. And with the—” His words choked to a halt. His throat constricted.
His father’s smile grew.
Something was wrong. So, sowrong.
He cleared his throat. Cleared it again, but the crown was …tightening.
He reached up to tear it off, but it sliced his hands, shredded them to ribbons like paper under a knife. The crown punched into his skin. His skull was shrieking, aching, and he needed to—