Page 4 of Obsidian and Frost
And then it all slipped away.
I shot up in bed,panting, and slapping my hand to my chest.
Sweat drenched me.
Not again.
I grounded myself by focusing on the room around me.
The guestroom in the home of Cornelius Martel and Warlow Boyd where I’d been staying for the last few months.
The light from the rising sun in the distance spilled in through the grand arched window, illuminating the gray stone floor. The whole space was restrained opulence and elegance, from the deep charcoal walls trimmed with faux silver, to the plush tufted headboard of the bed. Even the bed itself was covered in deep gray and midnight linens.
A crystal chandelier hung low from the ceiling. An upholstered chair that was beyond comfy stood near the window where I’d spent a lot of time looking out at the expansive grounds deep in thought.
I shot a burst of my purple magic through the bedroom and into the ensuite to my left, turning on the shower.
Then I stripped myself of my pajamas with a snap of my fingers, before teleporting myself right into the shower.
It was what I always did when I woke up like that.
When I jolted back to reality panting and sweating.
I reached for a bottle of lavender shower gel, needing to cleanse my skin of the sweat—and other things—before washing my long ombre hair that was a striking contrast with stark white at the top, which then gave way to deep black half way down.
As I soaped up, I worked to ground myself back in the moment by focusing on my surroundings while the soothing warm water and soap worked in tandem.
The bathroom was no less lavish than the bedroom, with black tiles cloaking the walls and floor, gleaming faintly under the soft lights overhead. A freestanding soaking tub was situated in one corner beneath another stunning chandelier.
The shower surrounding me was built into the wall and framed by slate-toned tile that gave off cool luxury vibes. I looked out through the arched window mirroring the one in the bedroom, taking a moment to use the picturesque view of the surrounding forest to center myself.
I finished washing my body, then moved to my hair.
He fisted my hair, tugging and stroking in a delectable way, giving away how wild and unhinged his desire for me was in that moment, how he was barely holding it together.
I blinked away that memory, forcing it down quickly.
Son of a bitch.
Those hellish nightmares.
The symbolism was the same—always with the shadows and the taunts, then with my screams going unheard—but the part with Cassius was only once in a while.
I slapped my hand to my head.Holy hell.Having him on my mind and in that physicallyappetizingway, no less, was one of the worst days for it.
I was starting my new life today.
And Cassius wasn’t a part of that.
He’d made it clear that he didn’t ever intend to be.
Even though there was an undeniable connection between us.
Not just metaphorically or attraction-wise—we were Soul Branded.
It didn’t make us mates or anything like that, but we were tethered in a different way, a way in which neither of us fully understood. A wayhedidn’t want to understand.
A few months ago, he’d saved my life from a murder attempt orchestrated by my brother, Sorin, who was an agent ofPuritas,a fanatical group who wanted to rid the world of what I was—a hybrid. Cassius had pulled me from death. It had been a violation of Celestial Law and he’d risked the wrath of those he’d served at the time—the True Celestials of the Celestial Plane—those up on high. Almighty deities.
