Page 86 of The Last Guardian

His hands explored my body. My insides longed for more. His lips ventured elsewhere. Slowly, our clothes vanished, and we enjoyed this quiet moment again and again.

My mind slammed shut, and I found myself back in the Void. I had the urge to curl up and block out the memories of what I had seen.

I remembered that moment; I had grown to cherish it.

I had always wanted to return to who we were at that exact instant. When Nevan had returned to Lorath a few months later, he had changed. Our encounters became less frequent, and it never felt the same afterwards.

I knew why now—because he made me forget everything we did together.

Zaidkiel had mentioned that the memories I hadn’t fully processed would surface first. I hadn’t considered this at all, but it was clear that I needed to confront this reality.

The only man I’d ever been intimate with had turned out to be nothing but a fraud. Stolen moments.

As I turned to find my Anchor in the Void, a rope pulled me towards another dark door. I tried to escape its force, but it was too strong. The door opened, and a wave of fear swept over me when I saw…

My room, back at Lorath.

No, no, I refused to go in.

No, not that one.

A sound echoed in the Void, a harsh, icy sound awakening the scars in my back, followed by muffled cries.

The pain in my back spread throughout my body. I tried not to flinch at each stroke of the whip as the sharp, burning sensation seared my bones and blood. The whip hit me harder than the day before.

My heart thumped in my chest as I felt the sting of his whip’s aftermath on my back. Hot tears flowed down my face, and I clenched my teeth to withstand the pain. In another five minutes, he would leave. But it wouldn’t be the last time…

It was far from over; it would never end. He always came back for more pain.

The king kept hitting me as hard as he could. Blood seeping from the open wounds on my back, I cried and tried not to scream. If I did, he would hit harder; my pain always angered him. But this time, the whip hit harder with each blow. I clenched my fists to force myself through the excruciating pain.

He hit one of the scars that hadn’t healed yet, and I saw white.

At the moment of impact, I began to scream like never before. I almost thought the palace walls were shaking with the vibration of my pain.

Someone opened the door, and a voice echoed.

Who, who, who?

I couldn’t say with the pounding in my ears, until I heard my older brother screaming my name.

The memory shifted as I spun around; the shadows transformed my father’s face in the room.

The room turned as a garden emerged in the night. The face I had seen faded away, morphing into another one—Nevan, but older.

His russet eyes gazed at me with the same ravenous stare as the last time I had seen him. His hands on my waist, he pressed me against the greenhouse wall. His mouth was on mine as I struggled against his grip.

“I miss your taste and touching you,” he murmured against my jaw.

I pushed against his chest. “Stop, Nevan! I don’t want this.”

He ignored me, slipping his hand beneath my dress, rough and without permission. I turned my head, nausea welling up inside me, but he persisted, his breath hot against my skin.

“You always say ‘no’ when you mean ‘yes,’“ he teased.

“I said, stop!” I snapped, but it only made him angrier. He gripped my wrists and pinned them above my head. I froze.

My voice faltered. “Don’t,” I implored, “please.”