Page 68 of Grim and Oro
This possessiveness over a woman I do not possess at all grips me in my bones.
The ball itself is tedious. I sit on my throne, watching, but not truly seeing. In my mind I’m with a hearteater with stained lips and green eyes that see far beyond my armor.
Women approach, trying to get close to me—each desiring to be the one to tempt me—but my shadows flare, making them scatter.
I don’t like to be touched.
I find myself not only bored, but restless. I count the minutes until sunrise when I can finally leave my throne. A swirl of emotions surrounds me: Lust. Excitement. Delirium. They bleed together into a meaningless sea of nothing.
In the haze, I find myself craving her red shade of emotions, the way they cut into me like knives, the way I can taste them on my tongue. Their claws sinking into me, bringing me out of my own shadows in a way no one else has even tried.
Before her, I was sure my heart had hardened forever. I thought myself incapable of the emotions I often sensed in others.
Now, I know my own were lying dormant. Waiting centuries for someone worthy.
Someone I am not worthy of, and want anyway.
My desperation is so palpable that my mind manages to summon her, an illusion. She’s suddenly there, in the middle of the crowd, a single blooming rose in a field of ash.
But I don’t just see her. I can feel her.
Impossible.
I sit up straight. It isn’t an illusion.
I know her.
I could never not know her.
The crowd parts.
And there she is. Radiance embodied. The world dims around her. Nothing can come close to her brilliance.
Everyone is watching her.
Of course they are.
In every room, in every realm, in every universe, she is its center.
I realize all at once: She defied me. I should have expected it. Normally, I might be amused, but here, she is in danger. I’m struck by a brief flash of fury. She has no comprehension of the risk she’s taken.
I’m angry for other reasons too.
As if recognizing my anger, she smiles and blows me a taunting kiss.
I stand immediately, ready to portal her away. I hardly care that my subjects have turned to watch me; I don’t care about anything at all except for her and the poor excuse for a dress she’s wearing—just shreds of almost sheer black fabric. Not out of place at a ball like this, but on her? On her, it’s ruinous.
In response, she disappears back into the crowd, which converges around her as their merriment continues.
As if she could hide from me.
Yet—
She is not mine, I remind myself. She is a ruler of realm. If I take her away now—revoke her freedom—she will hate me more than she already does.
Teeth clenched and jaw locked tightly, I sit back down.
I manage to glimpse her dancing alone, and strain to follow her movements through the packed room. I command everyone in this realm, but it is she who commands my full attention. Always.
