A seed I can sense just like I can her warm, blossoming presence whenever she enters a room, or her sweeping gaze no matter the distance between us.
A seed Iworship—a direct link that allows me to gush her full of strength and life.
A seed that brings us closer in every way but the one that truly matters …
Her acceptance of me.
Ofus.
Her body grows limp, and I pull back, heaving choked breaths, clawing at my chest. Seeing her lips smudged in my blood as she draws sleepy breaths.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again, planting another kiss upon her temple—right beside a shrinking wound that churns my heart.
Because it’sworking.
Rebuilding her from the inside out, piecing her together with every thud of her racing heart.
I lean farther back, scrubbing my face, threading my fingers through my hair and gripping tight. My shoulders curl, the weight of my decision compounding …
There’s a very good chance that when she wakes, she’s going to hate me more than sheeverhas.
And it might just ruin me.
The frail boy in the cell has dusky eyes, and the roots of his iridescent hair have started to darken.
His light is fading.
His skin is broken.
He’s wet himself.
He cries for somebody he calls Lord …
I would like to kill them all over again.
D r i f t . . .
I throw a blanket over the portrait and hide it in a room where I don’t have to look at everything I lost.
I’ll never paint in color again.
D r i f t . . .
There’s fear in her wide eyes as she looks at me, hunting for a mark made by the blade she just swung. The seed beneath my ribs thumps in acknowledgement to her hand upon my chest—directly above it.
I’m tumbling. Feeling things. Fighting them before fate sets its eyes on her.
Snips her breath.
They can’t have her.
D r i f t . . .
I’m in a cold room only lit by a shard of light that shoots down from far above, bathing the glass sculpture of a man and a woman—forever embracing.
Forever choosing not to stay.
I don’t know why I’ve come here …
