Burnt Devotion (Imdalind, #5)(38)

“But, why…?” I asked the question, even though I knew the answer. Well, at least I thought I did.

His answer was nothing like I had been expecting. Nothing like what I had wanted to hear

“Because part of your soul is missing, and each night when you sleep, you search for it. You search so hard that you create something that is not there, if only to keep you going.”

My soul. For years, I had been searching for my soul. Even before Talon’s death, even before I regained my memories. My soul was still searching for what had been ripped from it in years of dreams and nightmares as I watched Thom and Rosaline move through my subconscious.

And now, now without Talon, my dreams were left to dwell in the parts still missing and the parts now gone. Talon had been taken from me by the same man who had taken my daughter, the girl whose laugh and cries were forever embedded in my soul. All I had now was Thom, the one man stoically missing from the dreams, and only because he was right in front of me.

I was right; losing parts of who you were and then being forced to relive them was like a special place in the underworld reserved just for me.

“Purgatory.”

“I’m sorry?”

I hadn’t even realized I had said the word aloud.

“I had that thought, being there. Being trapped with … him.” And her … but I wasn’t going to say that. Not aloud and certainly not to him. “That it was purgatory. Being with someone that you want so dearly, but not.”

Dramin looked into me with the same look Sain always had, the intense stare that Draks always had, except something was missing. A light or intensity that I hadn’t paired with the intense look before was missing. I didn’t shy away from him as I normally would have. I looked at him as a deep groan seeped past his lips, and he rolled over, patting the bed beside him.

I hesitated for only a minute before I closed the gap between us, my body tense with nerves as I sat beside the one person I had harmed possibly more than any other in this building.

“In a way it is,” he whispered, his weak hand patting my knee comfortingly. “Being forced to relive what you can no longer have is a form of torture I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Not even on you.”

A laugh flared from me at the admission, in the snotty tone I had used for so long heavy, only to have it fade into the childlike roar that I preferred. In a way, it was ridiculous.

“Thank you, I guess.” The words were swallowed by the humor.

“You are welcome, I guess,” Dramin said, his inflection matching mine as he patted my knee once more. “Besides, I am putting my life in your hands tomorrow. I must learn to trust you.”

I stiffened at the reminder. Part of me filled with dread, while the other half was ready to run into the forest and begin the massacre. As much as I hated the ‘two-sided’ nature of myself right now, I also knew it wasn’t going to go away. It was best to try to get used to it, especially if I didn’t want to be known as a head case.

“Does that mean you forgive me, then?” I couldn’t help asking.

“I didn’t say that.” He rolled back onto his back with a groan, his face as calm and unresponsive as an old man reading the newspaper. “It means I must learn to trust you.”

Well, when you put it like that…

I wasn’t sure if Dramin was kidding, being serious, or somewhere in the middle. By the amount of laughter he had infected the room with and the way his eyes shone, somewhere in the middle suited me just fine.

Even if I would never gain his forgiveness, I would gain his trust, and in oh so many ways, that was enough for me.

I stood without a word, grateful when he didn’t say anything to stop me, and softly padded toward the door, my magic flaring as I turned the lights off, hoping it was the right thing to do.

“Go dream of your mate, little girl,” he whispered from somewhere in the dark behind me. “And I will dream of mine.”

I froze, staring into the dark room, wishing there was something to say. Something that could make everything better.

I think that was part of the problem.

There wasn’t.

And there never would be.





Nine


“Let me go!” His voice was the bang of a gun in my ear, the close proximity of the shout making the sound even louder as it echoed through the kitchen where we waited for Ilyan and Joclyn.

“No, Ryland!” I growled as loud as I dared and tried to grab his arms again, to push my magic into him enough that I could forcibly calm him down.

He merely kept fighting me, his body thrashing as whatever demons his father had impregnated him with grew stronger.

The closer Edmund came, the worse he got and the more this battle that we were minutes away from entering seemed like an impossibility.

The thought was full of anticipation and dread, but I ignored both, trying again to control Ryland as his hand latched onto my plate and sent the last of my cantaloupe salad flying.

“Great,” I groaned as Thom finally moved to help me, the added hands giving me enough leverage that I was able to find skin, my magic moving into him in a rush of heat and ice that calmed him immediately.

“No!” he called out again, but his interjection was half-hearted. His voice sunk as he did, right into the battered bench between Thom and I. Then his hands fell into the untouched plate of food before him, sending tomatoes rolling.