I was back in my study, sitting at my desk just like I had been when that damn vision hit me. This connection between us was stronger than I ever imagined. Stronger than anything I thought possible. Its power was unique, raw, and new. I did not know what it was capable of, and that terrified me more than anything.
I had spent the better part of yesterday recovering from her memory that breached the fucking barrier I built between us, slamming through it as if it didn't exist.
My thoughts drifted back to that memory… to that fucking cliff. It was as if I were her, seeing out of her eyes, hearing her thoughts. I remember that day, searching the woods for hours, trying to catch whoever had dared to spy on me. And now I knew why I hadn't.
A growl ripped past my lips as I shook the memory away. But tonight wasn't just a memory. Somehow I knew that, and I saw what was happening so vividly in my mind. That pathetic excuse of a male touching what was mine. Seeing her with him ignited a fury I never knew I possessed. I could still see it now, as if it were seared into my brain—his hands on her, his lips against hers.
The rage I was still feeling bordered on torment.
I watched every agonizing second, and the urge to reach her, to get to her, had been overwhelming. My body had felt heavy, weighed down as if by chains. Then, in an instant, I was there, in that room, staring at her on the bed withhim.
She was mine.
I stood, unable to contain my rage a second longer. Grasping my chair, I flung it across the room, its worn wood splintering against the bookshelf lining the wall as more books fell to the stone floor. The chair was now nothing more than kindling.
What we had just done... what did that even fucking mean?
My cock twitched, still hard at the memory of her coming so completely undone in my arms. At my touch. The memory had me squeezing my eyes shut, but all I saw were her parting lips, her breathy moans. The way she said my name, begging me to continue.
Something metallic on my tongue drew my attention, and I touched my mouth. I had bitten her. Tasted her blood on my tongue and reveled in it, in marking her. Biting her. I hadn’t realized what I was doing when it happened, but I didn’t regret it.
Grabbing a cloth from a drawer, I wiped at the blood until the cloth was stained red. I stared down at it, my breath ragged.
Everything is so fucked.
*
Exhausted from yet another restless night, I shadowed onto the castle grounds. I tossed and turned the entire night, the memory of Zara consuming my every thought. I took a deep, grounding breath, my lungs filling with the sweet scent of florals wafting down from the terrace garden.
Turning, my boots sank into the soft stone at my feet, crunching as I headed toward my uncle's cabin. Gunnar was supposed to join me, but he still hadn’t woken up from his collapse the other day. Julian assured me he was recovering, but we couldn’t waste any more time. Flynn had been isolated since that meeting with Morgana, and despite my anger, my kingdom took priority. He might have information I needed, and we also needed to test this loophole theory, especially now that I had some of Zara’s blood.
The cabin had smoke billowing from its chimney, and I sighed as I walked the short distance to his door. Grabbing onto the brass handle, I squared my shoulders. The door swung wide, and I had to duck as metal sang through the air toward me. A dagger flew over my head, embedding itself into the dirt outside.
Flynn was standing in the middle of the room, his chest rising and falling in quick, rapid breaths. He wasn't wearing any shoes, and his black shirt hung open, displaying his sculpted, hairy chest. His pendant necklace hung low over his heart, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides as he looked at me wildly, like a caged animal.
I took a measured step into the cabin, closing the door behind me and saying coolly, “Uncle.”
“Uncle?” Flynn said sharply on a fast breath. “Un… ha!... UNCLE!?” he roared, his tone manic with rage.
I simply raised my brow at him, emotion drained from my features. He seemed to only grow angrier at that, and I leaned my back against the door, propping one foot up while folding my arms across my chest.
“Do you have any idea what it was like?” he bellowed. “To be locked away like some prisoner? Gagged like ananimal? To be treated by my own blood this way? To not even be given the chance to explain?” Flynn raised a clenched fist, a finger pointing at me threateningly. “Iraisedyou, boy. I was owed more respect than that,” he snarled, his voice vicious and raw.
I blinked, remaining unmoved.
“You lied to me my entire life,” I whispered, the words cold and barely more than a breath. My gaze met his chestnut brown eyes—the same color as Zara’s hair—and Flynn went to reply, but I cut him off.
“You knew.” My words sliced through the air, and Flynn flinched. “You knew my mother was Morgana. For four centuries.”
“I did what your father asked of me,” Flynn barked, “as he died in my arms. I kept a promise to my brother.”
“You lied to an entire kingdom. Tome.”
“And I have lived with that every day.”
Flynn squared his shoulders, his face set in unapologetic rage. My voice was rising now, the controlled fury bleeding into every syllable. I pushed off the door and stepped forward, closing the space between us.
“But that’s not the only thing you lied about, is it, Uncle?”
