Page 3 of Detonation
Though I’m not sure what my next step will be, past the one that I’m taking right now, I’m hoping I can figure it out quickly. Right now, all I know is that if I stop walking or allow my mind to wander, my fragile mental walls will come crumbling down.
A crunch sounds loudly beneath my feet, echoing in my ears. I avoid looking down. I already know what lies beneath me—skeletons piled up, some fae, some animal. I wonder how many are from the battle that ended my first life.
What happened after Anshar and I perished in that battle? How many battles have been fought since then?
Where is the breathtaking beauty that knocked the breath from my lungs when I visited with Gaia? The white oak kingdom with its sweeping arches and open windows—where is my safe space, the beacon of safety for my people? In my past life, I used to gaze out of those windows, breathing in the tranquil air that made me who I was, soothing whatever issue had nestled its way into my mind that day.
Moving a stray strand of copper hair away from my face, I glance around, trying to find a familiar landmark to orientate myself. I feel as if I've been walking for hours, yet staying stuck in the exact same spot I started in.
Damn those fucking dark fae.The once majestic landscape seems entirely disfigured, devoid of its trademark sloping hills and forest.
I hang my head, memories of my past life assaulting me. This was my home, my life. And yet, I feel nothing here. No connection to my past, to this once-beautiful place, except a distant, pulsing grief and rage. There’snothinghere I can recognize.
This disconnection, this feeling of wrongness—is this how Ash feels, sharing a body with Anshar?
No.No!
I urge myself not to go there but my chest constricts with the pain that lances my heart as the reminder of my imprisoned mate beats me down, knocking the breath from my lungs. My eyes burn with tears that promise to rush from me, threatening to break the façade of strength that I built like a shield. Who am I trying to fool? Myself?
A groan rips from my throat as I grip my head and pull on my hair, tugging at the roots to redirect my mind toanythingelse.
Don't go there, Lana.
But he’s all I can see—Ash.MyAsh. One face, two souls. One, I love fiercely, with every fiber of my being; the other, I'd love to castrate and choke on his own dismembered, flaccid dick.
He took Ash from me. How am I supposed to recover from that? And how in the fuck am I supposed to recover from—
My breaths come in rapid succession as I spiral into the flashback of last night that hasn’t fucking stopped tormenting me.
Heviolatedme.
My head smashed into the pillow, the pressure from his thrusts, the weight of his body on my back.
His voice echoes in my head.I am your everything.
No.
My knees hit the ground as my legs buckle. My fingers dig into the dirt, clinging for solid ground. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to rein in the tears that are streaming down my face, uncaring about the pressure on my hands and nails as I fist my hands into the bones in the dirt.
My throat catches against the phantom feel of his cock pressing at the back of it, my head bobbing up and down the length of him.I like being the reason you make noises, Ash.
A strangled sob escapes my mouth as I choke on a defeated cry. I will never get that piece of myself back.
"How fucking dare you!" I scream into the void of my dead realm, the full extent of the violation enveloping me in its suffocating embrace.
“You’re mine, Oslana,” he whispered as I lowered myself onto him.
My arms give out and I fall onto the ground, my forehead against the dirt, against the skeletons of the people thatIkilled in my past life. Myarrogance did that. Not Anshar. He may have pulled the trigger, but my people wouldn’t have been in point-blank proximity if I hadn’t called for them to be by my side.
As the weight of my failures and defilement crushes me, I curl into a fetal position. Sobs wrack my body, my broken ribs piercing me from the inside, the sharp edges of dried and brittle bones biting into my face, but the pain has nothing on the agony assailing my heart and mind.
I need Beth. I can’t do this.
I need Beth to hold me, crush me against her chest, promise that I can get through this. I need her trust in my strength when I have never felt weaker—not even after Rafael. She promised that I’m a survivor, but I feel closer to death than I have ever been.
As the plea for respite rests at the tip of my tongue and I weep for my trauma, my heart splinters.
“I’ve been hurt too,” he said, his voice timid, his small hand on my own, as Beth held me on the recliner.
