⟡ Ember ⟡
⟡
My mom never believed in death, not in the kind that you cease to exist and disappear forever. For a while after my father's death, she acted like he was still there. You would see her eating dinner by herself but with two plates, talking to herself in a corner of the cave, and she'd talk about him in the present moment - as if he were still there. I always wanted to tell her he was gone, I wanted to scream and shout and kick and scream. Now I realize that was how we both grieved differently. She wanted to believe he was okay, alive, and I wanted everyone to feel the same pain I felt knowing i'd never seem him again.
"Your father isn't gone, baby." My mom cooed, wiping away my tears. I wanted to swat her hand away, why did she still want to touch me? Why did she still want to comfort me? "Your ability, Ember. You can bring the dead to life, so if that's possible..your father can't truly be gone, can he?"
The memory was haunting me as I sat on the counter, one of my hands resting in my lap and the other in Warren's hold. I watched his eyes flicker up for a moment, his onyx eyes seemed to soften, half lidded with a lazy smile. My mom would forever be alone, miserable without her mate while I was here - being gingerly touched as he bandages my sprained wrist. I didn't deserve to live. "Ember, I hate those feelings of yours."
"I'm sorry."
His eyes avert back to my wrist, he wraps it again in between my thumb. "You can't blame yourself for what happened." I opened my mouth to argue but his eyes stopped me. He drops my hand, despite not being finished, and stares at me. I lick my lips, fear and desire both swirling in the pit of my stomach. "Your power is one of the most feared abilities in the world, Ember. You need to realize how powerful you are then realize how hard it is to control that much energy. Then, remember that you were a child. No body can hold a child accountable for something they physically can't control, especially considering there's no other necromancer alive - you have no one to train you or help you through your power. Yes, you killed your dad and there is nothing more than I want to do than bring him back so I don't have to see you like this..but that's not possible. You can't live in a hole of self pity and misery your entire life."
"What if I can bring him back?" I ask. You can bring the dead to life.
For the first time since i've met him, terror flashes across his face and he grabs the sides of my face, bringing his so much closer. "Don't ever bring the dead back, Ember. Do you understand me? You cannot bring them back."
"But i'm a necromancer, I can-"
"It won't be your dad who comes back, Ember. Don't ever try it. If you love your father, let him go." Part of me wanting to ask him why he keeps touching me, unable to focus on anything he's saying with how delicately he held me. But I knew the answer, because i'm his SoulBond. Growing up, my mom always told me that my mate would want to touch me and that I would want to touch him. She told me over and over again not to feel ashamed or hesitant to do so, that my mate would want me to whether they said so or not. In this moment, I realized how true her words were. I didn't know this man, yet I wasn't uncomfortable around him like I thought i'd be, and I didn't mind him touching me. I actually enjoyed it.
"I'm sorry." I whisper, though I didn't feel sorry. I didn't think my questions about bringing my dad back were wrong, I was curious..and desperate.
He drops my face, reaching for my half bandaged hand. "You don't ever have to apologize to me, little heart. But understand, nothing dead can come back." He pauses, stepping closer. "Centuries ago, a group of necromancers banded together to raise hell, do you know why? Because their leader promised them their dead SoulBonds would rise again. The leader of the group, his name was Zev Hawthorn, no one knows why he wanted to raise hell but he knew he couldn't do it himself. So..he rallied every other necromancer he knew - and he killed their mates. He used their weakness, their soul, against them and manipulated them into working with him, promising they'd get their SoulBonds back once hell was raised."
I don't respond right away, watching him finish wrapping my hand. His fingers slide down the bandage, before stopping at the tips of mine. "Then they were massacred." I whisper.
He nods, playing with my fingers. A pleasant shiver runs down my spine. "Zev was killed before anyone could question him, he killed himself." Deep down, a very uncontrolled part of me sympathized with Zev and the people he manipulated. Losing my father was one thing, for months all I could think about was how I was supposed to move forward from his loss. I didn't eat and I avoided Renzo everyday, I didn't think I deserved his comfort. I had felt like there was a hole in my heart, something missing and forever will be. But the thought of losing Warren? My entire heart would be missing. And half of my soul.
His fingers never stopped touching mine. He ran a long slender finger down the center of my palm. "Does anyone know why Zev wanted to do that? Maybe his friends at the time or-"
"No." He answers softly. "There are theories. Some say he too lost his SoulBond and the loss drove him mad."
"Can that actually happen?"
His eyes find mine, a new blaze behind them. It's like he was telling me yes, and that he too would lose his mind if I died. But I ignored it, convincing myself I was fantasizing. "The other theory is that theres a power beam in hell, some ancient relic that the gods have deemed to be too powerful in our hands so, they concealed it in Hell. No one in their right minds would search Hell for power that isn't even proven to be there."
I swallow, hesitant to ask my next question. "What does the relic do?"
I noticed the way his fingers froze at the base of mine, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "We should get you out of that dress, it must be uncomfortable." He drops my hand into my lap, taking a wide step back. He wasn't looking at me now, I so desperately wanted him to. How scary can this relic be? I ignore the thought, sliding off of the counter. If he didn't want to talk about it, I wouldn't push it, yet. "Tomorrow we will do the Bonding Ceremony, if that's okay with you."
"That's soon." I followed him down the hallway at the side of the kitchen.
"I know and I apologize but I want to ensure that you'll be protected at all times."
"Will I not be if we don't do the ceremony?" I felt a tinge of hurt in my chest.
He spins, stopping us in the hall. "I will always protect you, Ember. Don't ever doubt that. The ceremony completes the Bond, imagine a wall between us - the ceremony completely removes that. We'll be able to hear each other's thoughts, only if you allow me to, and we'll be able to sense each other if we're close enough. I'll be able to talk to you through here-" he taps my head. "Without being next to you, and if I lose you - I can find you. It'll help me keep you safe when I can't physically be with you."
"Is my life threatened?" My voice wobbled.
He steps closer, the heat of his body warming mine. "I will rip their hearts from their chests and hang them as decorations in my bedroom." He says lowly. "Anyone who touches you, Ember. Hell, even if they don't touch you. If they make you uncomfortable of they say anything to you that raises alarms, tell me."
"Who? Who is after me?"
"Everyone. You are a necromancer, and the moment people find out, you'll be a target."
"Zoya knows." I tell him, remembering when she had caught sight of my mark and went silent. "But she won't hurt me, will she?"
He shakes his head. "Zoya would never bring you harm, even if she wanted to. She knows better."
Seconds pass of silent eye contact. We were both studying each other, I didn't know what he found in my face before he turned around. But I knew what I found in him, and it was fear. That knowledge is long forgotten once I enter his bedroom, frowning at the bland walls and silk navy blue sheets. He digs through a dresser, pulling out an oversized tee, tossing it onto the bed. The air went hot, too hot. "Put that on for tonight." My fingers trembled.
"You want me to wear your-" I didn't finish my sentence. The only male shirt i've ever worn were my dad's and Renzo's. I zone in on the one bed, not recalling another room as we passed through the hall. "Are we both sleeping in here?"
"Yes."
"But I-" I think over my words, looking at him. "I've never slept in the same bed as someone."
He smirks. "Good, I don't have to kill anyone." He walks towards me, grabbing my shoulder and spinning me. I yelp out in shock, my back to his front. He trails his fingers over my collar bone, my neck and then he grabs the zipper of my dress. In one swift motion, he yanks it down. It stops at the dip of my hips, my skin tingling at the brush of his knuckles. Everywhere burned, everywhere was warm with electricity bubbling with anticipation. "We will get you your own clothes tomorrow." He promises, before I feel his presence disappear. I felt cold without him behind me, momentarily frowning as I regather my thoughts.
I look over my shoulder to find the room empty, he really had left. Or was he invisible somehow? I didn't know the extent of his abilities. I refused to overthink it, slipping the dress off. I kicked it into a far corner for the time being, finding no clothes basket or pile of clothes anywhere in the room. I tugged the shirt on and left the room. It took me not even a minute to realize I was alone, Warren was no where in the house.