Page 82 of The Heartless One
Her feet hit the basement floor, and Elric’s warm arm wrapped around her waist. He tugged her back against him, flush to the heat of his chest and the hard planes of muscle she now knew so well.
“What changed?” he growled into her ear, his muscles bunching beneath her fingers.
“You.”
That growl turned into something far more possessive. He tightened his grip on her, dragging her deeper into his embrace before murmuring in her ear, “If anything happens, turn your head.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you to see the pieces of him that will be left after anyone tries to touch you in front of me. I will suffer fools if you wish, but the moment they try to harm you, Jessamine, I make no promises.” He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, trying to make what he just said a little less monstrous. “There will not be much left of him, but I would appreciate it if you did not see what I can really do.”
She swallowed hard, then nodded. Because even though it was wrong, even though she should have feared him as he said that, she just wanted to turn him around, press him against the wall, and have her way with him again.
Jessamine had spent her entire life with people who were willing to take care of her. There had been countless guards who would have laid down their lives for the royal family in a moment. But no one had been willing to be a monster for her. No one had been willing to be so… evil.
“Understood.”
“Good girl.”
He released her onto wobbly legs and chuckled as she made her way to the rooms in the back of the basement. She could only barely see the doors, the candlelight down here was so weak. But she’d seen the rooms when she’d first taken the tour. Very simplistic, with little more than a cot, an end table, and a bare light that hung above their heads.
“Did we really need a prison down here?” she muttered.
“Yes,” he replied before walking ahead of her and opening the door. He looked inside with a disapproving glance before nodding at her. “We clearly did.”
She strode inside and was shocked to see the young man chainedto the wall in there. The brilliance of his golden hair, the rather greasy complexion that she’d never seen so slick with sweat. The wild look in his handsome eyes. All of it was so familiar to her, though slightly different at the same time.
“Jessamine!” the young man gasped.
She knew him. She recognized that face, his hair, the sharp beak of his nose. “Unchain him,” Jessamine said, her voice shaking.
“Jessamine,” Elric started.
“Now.”
She waited as Elric moved forward and did just that. And then stepped forward as the young man rushed to her without any fear of the god who stiffened at her side. He gathered her up in his arms, ignoring the immediate tension that rose in the room, and said, “You’re all right.”
She remained frozen even as he hugged her. Her cheek was pressed against a very real shoulder, but her mind was wandering so far that it was impossible to even think straight. It wasn’t possible that this was… he couldn’t be…
“Alexander?” she asked, her voice raspy with sudden confusion. “Is it really you?”
“It’s me.” He leaned back just slightly with her still in his arms. “You are well? He didn’t… When I heard you were still alive, I didn’t think it was possible. I saw you fall. Isawyou fall into the sea, but then everyone was talking and I heard you were here and I couldn’t… The spell they are using, Jessamine. It’s so terrible. You could have been caught in it.”
Stunned, she barely had time to even open her mouth before another voice interrupted them.
Elric’s tones were dark, laced with violence as he quietly said, “It would be wise of you to take your hands off her, boy, if you want to keep them attached to your body.”
She looked behind her to see that his shadows had spread out like giant wings. They were burned into the very walls by the single light over their head, pulsing with power and magic as he leaned against the now-closed door. He had one foot up on the wood, his arms crossed over hischest and his head tilted just slightly down. But those eyes… Those dark slashes were filled with more malice than she’d ever seen.
And he was looking at the points where Alexander touched her. He didn’t stop staring at the man’s hands until Alexander took a few stumbling steps back.
“M-my apologies,” he stammered, distraught. “It’s just… I didn’t think she was actually alive, you see. I saw her at the party, but some part of me still assumed it was all a lie. She was masked, I was mistaken that I’d seen her, and that she was still dead. I’d convinced myself that was the truth. Can you blame me? It’s a miracle.”
“It’s not a miracle. It’s the touch of a god.” Elric didn’t move. It was hard to even see his lips moving, yet alone the breath in his lungs. All of it made him appear otherworldly, like a statue speaking rather than a flesh-and-blood man. “Mytouch, mortal. Do not try to erase it.”
Was this… jealousy?
Was Elric jealous that Alexander had hugged her? There was a vibration of violence around him she’d never felt before, a sensation that if she even took a step in the wrong direction, he’d kill the young man without thinking. Alexander’s death would be on her hands, just like so many others.
