Page 47 of The Spark that Ignites (Shattered Soul #1)

T he first time haunted Emmery’s dreams the most. Her vilest memory. The deepest scar in her soul. The one that left her gasping for breath and clutching sweaty sheets at night. It was the only time she fought back. Pointlessly. Futilely.

And after that, she found escape to a faraway place in her mind, wrapped in gentle sounds and silken darkness. Where he couldn’t hurt her. Her mind was safe.

She didn’t need to see the blood trickling down her thighs. The fresh ache between her legs was indication enough. She could still feel his bruising hands, the melding sharp and dull pain, her helpless frozen limbs as he pinned her down—

It was this night she promised herself she would claim his life. Slowly. With pleasure.

Because he had taken from her. Stolen. So, he would face the same fate.

But this was worse than death. She would live with this forever.

There was no escaping her own body. This husk of a shell she remained in.

Blood dripped from her nose onto the familiar hardwood floor. She would have to hide her black eye, bruised shoulders and thighs from Maela again. But this time was different. He hadn’t just struck her. She could handle a few battered ribs, swollen cheek, even the cracked collarbone, but this—

This couldn’t be healed. Could not be undone.

Emmery tightened her arms around the black hole inside her gut, that horrifically hollow, vacant thing that swelled, feeding off her sorrow.

Maybe if she held hard enough, she wouldn’t fray apart.

Often, she would find herself curled up here for the ground's strange comfort or maybe she just couldn’t bear to glimpse the bloodstained sheets. But at least the floor wouldn’t give out like her heart threatened to.

If she even had a heart anymore. It numbed, no longer beating the same innocent rhythm.

Her limbs shifted and a cool obsidian mist cradled her body.

Shade had found her. Come to save her. But this time, too late.

She tucked her face into his neck, wishing she could feel his skin. Wishing he could truly hold her. Protect her. Give some semblance of comfort.

But he had come for her as he always had, even though each time she doubted he would. After all, who wanted to deal with this sort of mess?

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. The words fractured in her mind to meaningless noise. Mindful of her bruises that felt too real to be dreamed, his arms slid under her knees, cradled her back, and lifted her into the air. “I’m so, so sorry. Words can’t describe how sorry I am.”

The Divide engulfed them—that deep, endless black abyss. She was safe.

A sob wracked her body, rattling her bones. Her core. Her foundation crumbled. She couldn’t contain it any longer and the tears burst like a raging river through a dam.

Emmery wept into Shade’s neck as they melted into the Divide.

She never let herself cry. Not like this. It was weak. And yet, she couldn’t stop.

“Please don’t cry. You’re alright. I’ve got you now,” he assured, his cool breath coasting over her hair as he smoothed it back.

Not even Shade could glue her back together. She was ... broken. Shattered beyond repair, like a mess of porcelain dust and missing pieces. And she had been for too long.

“Tell me how to fix this,” he pleaded. “ Anything . Tell me and I’ll do it.”

She blinked up at him, locking with his unfathomably green eyes. The ones that soothed her even on the darkest nights, now simmering with pain. “Just ... Please, don’t leave.”

“I won’t. I’m right here.” Shade shrank to the ground and Emmery’s legs circled his waist, her arms binding his neck. Wishing she could meld into him. But he remained hidden under that cold mist.

“It hurts,” she whispered into his neck, voice a withered thing, eyes damp with tears.

He nodded his head. “I know. It’s okay.”

“And—it doesn’t get better. He’s still ... I can’t—” Her breath caught on a sob.

The mist moved over her back in soothing circles. “I know.”

Her voice broke as she whispered, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He inhaled, his chest trembling. “One day I’ll hold you for real, Em. And no one will hurt you ever again.” Shade’s voice strained as he added, “I promise.”

THROAT BURNING AND flesh sticky with sweat, Emmery peeled herself from the damp bed sheets. Her head lolled into her hands as she attempted to steady her breathing. It must have been another nightmare, but only fragments remained, the rest swept away from her mind.

She needed a drink to numb. Fuck her training. There was nothing else that could fix this.

Tugging on her soft black pair of sleeping shorts and an oversized mahogany tunic she had snagged from Vesper’s room, she strode to the cracked window.

A breeze snaked through, and Emmery snuck a glance at the dark clouds blotting out the stars.

It was still the dead of night, so there would be no glimmer of sunrise for several hours.

When she reached to close it, a black form amongst the veil of trees drew her eye.

It was a hulking shadowy thing. Sitting. Watching.

Emmery shivered, swearing its glowing eyes locked with hers. Some sort of animal? She ignored it in search of a drink.

Tip-toeing past Vesper’s slightly ajar bedroom door, she crept to the kitchen. Her feet slapped against the cold, stone floor, no matter how light she willed her steps, but the kitchen was thankfully vacant.

There were too many liquors to choose from, and she waffled between two fancy bottles, no idea what they contained.

One was skinny and teal with a silver cap, and the other a curvaceous mahogany with gold etchings in a language she couldn’t read.

Would the man from Malheim be able to? It didn’t really matter.

Instead, she smelled them to see which was stronger.

When they both equally stung her nose, she selected the one that matched her tunic. The clear liquid was rich like honey and lavender, but the first sip had her head spinning. The second went down smoother.

And the third.

Emmery stole the bottle, anxious to fall back into bed.

She was studying her reflection in the endless mirrors when she noticed someone standing in the throne room.

Her heart lurched and she instinctively pressed her back to the wall but, squinting into the shadows, she recognized the grey-haired head.

Wearing soft checkered sleeping pants and a cornflower blue knit, Vesper stood with a glass bottle in hand before the throne, staring at the aged blood staining the floor.

He took heavy gulps, his throat working as if the answer to his problems lay at the bottom of that drink.

Emmery watched him, puzzled. His eyes didn’t stray from the stain.

As she approached, her footsteps echoed off the empty walls. Everything in this room was cold, from the obsidian throne to the mirrored walls and the marbled floor. Vesper stiffened, swaying subtly, his bottle nearly empty.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked, occupying the space beside him.

Vesper nodded, tearing his attention from the blood stain to the vacant throne. He took another swig, his eyes screwing shut. “Did you know it’s particularly hard to get stains out of marble?” He drained the last of it and pulled the back of his hand across his mouth. “Turns out, it’s very porous.”

“I didn’t.” Emmery studied the stain, and a shiver raced down her spine.

His brows drew together, forehead wrinkling.

“I’ve wasted so much time trying to wipe the blood from my hands, only to find out it never washes.

Not truly.” He choked out a haunting laugh as he practically threw the bottle down.

“I don’t deserve it either. There are some things I can never fully atone for.

Some things remain etched into our souls forever.

And I never fucking learn. I keep making the same bloody mistakes. ”

Emmery swirled her drink, watching it lap the sides and slide down. Was he talking about Iz? Was he having second thoughts? Or was he thinking about his questionable activities with those Scarlets?

“Maybe it’s time for new floors,” she offered.

Shoving up his sleeves, Vesper sank to the ground, long legs extended.

Tipping back the last of her drink, Emmery poured a glass to the brim and joined him.

The room grew hazy as the liquor took hold, and the nightmare no longer infested her mind.

That familiar feeling in the drowning drink was the only relief she knew.

She handed him the bottle, and he took it, studying the label.

“If only I could buy myself a new heart. Gods know I have too much bloody slate but this—” He sneered and clutched his chest. “This thing is ruining my life. It’s causing me too much fucking pain .” He took a sip and winced. “Ugh, how are you drinking this swill?”

She swayed on the spot, her head heavy. “It’s doing the job, isn’t it?”

“Are you—” He narrowed his eyes. “Is that my tunic?”

Emmery gave him a drunken smile, her words slurred, “Oh, this old thing?”

Snorting a laugh, he took a pull from the bottle. “It looks better on you, anyway.” Vesper studied her for a long moment, something swimming in his expression like regret.

Twisting her mouth to the side, she asked, “What are you staring at?”

“You never smile. At least ... not like that. Not so carefree. Without cynicism.”

Her heart squeezed for some reason. Maybe because he noticed something like that. Something so small. He was right, she rarely had a reason or the strength to smile. He dragged his hand through his hair, and, for the first time, she studied it unobstructed. Free of gloves.

“What’s that?” she asked, nodding at the scar atop it. Another stamped the inside of his wrist, but she didn’t catch a good glimpse.

Vesper yanked his sleeve over the lion’s head. “Another pactum I made.” Scrutinizing her messy bedhead, quick to change the subject, he asked, “So, Emmery, why aren’t you getting your beauty rest?”

She didn’t mention the nightmares. There was no point. “I have a lot on my mind.”

His eyes slid to her. “Care to share?”