Page 57 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

His hand sliding across my skin drew me to the present. It turned the heating fire not to light but to the absence of it—if my body were adamas, the deepest black overtook my senses.

It was darkness, the unknown, and it felt like anything could happen there. Any choice could be made, and all outcomes had potential.

I made my choice—picked my outcome.

I chose this. Chose to be Chaos’s Champion .

I chose him, and with that decision, something incandescent shot through me, reigniting all the colors of magic I was familiar with.

I sucked in a breath, my head falling back, as my hand pressed against his wound. It knit together beneath my touch. His grip on my waist was exquisite as he held me close, and I knew I would never be the same. Moving on instinct, I rolled forward into it.

A hiss that sounded nothing like the pain he’d been in loosed from his throat. Another hint of hesitation fell away as his fingers caressed the length of my neck and danced along my collarbone.

His eyes met mine—ravenous—in a way that meant I didn’t have to search for memories of lust to heal him.

He knew what I was doing. He was helping.

Or, at least, that’s what I told myself.

My emotions surged, coating my senses as he pulled me to him.

Our lips connected in a featherlight press.

Tentative, but I wanted more. Every part of me waited for his next move.

My gaze met his. There was a question there, one I needed to answer.

I brought my lips back to his, my tongue searching to deepen the connection.

He didn’t make me wait. His fingertips curled into my hip as our kiss intensified. I rolled forward against him, and his other palm pressed against my chest, slid beneath the neckline of my tunic.

I wished his hand would drop lower—would explore the curve of my breasts, would do anything to prolong this feeling …

A distant memory told me I was doing this for a reason. In the ecstasy of his touch, his kiss, I almost forgot his wounds.

Regretfully, I pulled back and dared to look down, wondering if this had worked or if I was causing Hart more pain in his final moments.

The wound had closed.

Every heartbeat we touched, every bit of lust he awakened in me that he couldn’t take, I gave to him. I slid my hand down his side to where the first blade had struck, that wound had closed too.

His breath evened out, and his other hand was at my waist, clasping as if his life depended on it. My heart stuttered to realize: It no longer did.

He was clear of danger. I’d done it.

“Chaos,” he whispered the name like a prayer, but I knew it was directed at me.

His hand at my hip slid up my back and he pulled me closer, past the point of no return.

We shared breaths, my lips hovering above his. The hum of magic between us had cooled, but a connection still tugged from somewhere deep in my chest.

My magic had worked. My emotions healed him.

As I shook off the haze, I couldn’t fight the slight smile curling my lip.

This city made it dangerous to feel. Showing emotion was a weakness to be exploited by the Blessed.

But I’d proved to be more powerful by taking that risk.

I didn’t want to stop feeling. With Hart’s touch, with his kiss, I had felt more .

“Are you alright?” My voice was breathier than intended.

He cleared his throat. His hand left my chest as he disconnected everywhere we’d blurred together. “You didn’t have to do that.”

His hand still lingered on my hip, like it was loathe to separate from me fully.

I smiled and looked down again at his healed wounds to hide it. “But it worked? ”

“It worked.” He stared at me with a reverence I wasn’t sure I deserved.

He appeared to come back to his senses then. He gripped both of my hips and lifted me off his lap, placing me beside him. Slowly, he stood to ensure his body believed what his mind did—that he was completely healed.

He walked over to Soren’s body again. Kneeling, he pulled the ring from Soren’s finger and shoved it into his pocket.

My thought spun, and I started to shake. I couldn’t be sure if it was the absence of Hart’s touch or the adrenaline crash. I’d saved Hart with Chaos’s magic. Tonight, I’d accepted my calling. How had I not known I was Eris’s Champion? How had no one told me? What would I do now?

“Chaos,” he said in a way that made me think he’d said my name multiple times already.

I turned to look at him. So many emotions I couldn’t decipher flitted across his face. There and gone before they ever had a chance. Hart may be the only person in Kavios better at hiding his feelings than me.

Hart held out his hand as if sensing my impending breakdown.

I took it. He pulled me to my feet, and I stumbled into his solid frame.

I steadied myself on the hand I still held.

My gaze rested on the connection. It was so easy with him.

A wave of heat rushed through me. Hart defended me with a severity that bordered on religious devotion.

The way his questing fingers had slid across my skin—I wanted more.

“We should get back.” Hart’s words were an icy douse over the flame raging within me. “With Soren’s attack, we missed our window. We won’t make it to the mines and back without being seen now. Miners will be heading out for the shift change soon.”

My hands balled to fists at my sides. I hadn’t even been able to accomplish this one thing for Alaric. First, I’d lost the chance to run. Now, I couldn’t free the captive before submitting to everything I hated.

Did my choice tonight change anything? I’d still need to go through the ceremony. The unpredictability of my magic proved I couldn’t directly challenge the king tomorrow.

But it gave me hope. Maybe I could still try to free the captive once I was Blessed.

“I’m sorry about Soren,” I said. I didn’t know the extent of their relationship, but it was clear there had been one. Hart had taken no joy from what he’d had to do—for me.

Hart stared at the unmoving body. “He made his choice. I need to get you back to the castle, then I’ll deal with this.”

His brow pinched as he searched me. Following his gaze, I confirmed my suspicions. I was covered in Hart’s blood.

“I can’t go back like this. Even if I returned through the window, Penelope would have questions when I called for a bath.”

He nodded. “You can clean up at my place.”

We had failed at my objective for the evening.

I would still go through with the Blessing tomorrow, and without freeing the captive, I’d have to confront granting King Rodric additional adamas.

My mood wasn’t as dark as I thought it would be, though, with all of that being true.

I’d made a choice tonight. I’d accepted a calling the full extent of which I still didn’t understand.

As Hart’s hand gripped mine again for the return trip, I couldn’t help but feel —and I didn’t want to stop.