Page 302 of Emylia

"I AM THE STORM!"

I roared it so loudly the ground cracked again under my feet.

Power flooded me, a second skin made of fire and rage and magik too old to name.

“NO!” Maalikai’s voice ripped across the space between us—and then?—

Heat.

Lips.

Salt.

Tears.

Pine.

Mint.

Maalik.

He crashed into me, kissing me so fiercely it burned more than the flames.

The bond between me and the Gods—the leash they had wrapped around my soul—shattered.

Because Maalikai’s kiss—Maalik's love—was stronger.

I was his.

He was mine.

I was not ready to be claimed by anyone else yet.

Not even the Gods.

He kissed me with a passion that claimed every inch of me, claimed my soul. The saltiness of my tears made it a hot, broken mess. He pulled away, forehead resting against mine, his breath ragged, broken.

“Where did you go?” he whispered.

I didn’t know how to answer. I didn’t know how to tell him that parts of me were already ashes. That some parts of me were never coming back.

Hollowness settled into my chest. An abyss filled with a promise I knew I could never tell him about pulsed with every beat of my heart.

"I'm right here," I lied.

He looked at me like he could see the cracks, the bleeding edges of my soul. His storm-infused eyes shattered the remaining pieces of my already crumbled heart.

“I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Never,” I whispered—and we both knew it was a lie. A promise I could never keep.

“Don't ever do that to me again. Okay?” The look in his eyes stole my will to breathe.

Before I could answer—before the truth could poison the moment—he laced his fingers through mine. And without another word, he pulled me away.

From the battlefield.

From the blood.

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