Mated to the Chaos - Georgette St. Clair Page 0,18

her body. A vice clenched on her ribs, compressing them until their sharp edges were razors against her lungs. All to keep the past going, to say the words she’d already known would push him away.

The past repeats.

But she didn’t want to do this—face his fear and hatred—because she was the outlet to his greatest fear.

Wolf.

He was always a wolf, and the Chaos always made him loathe what he was.

Made him misunderstand what he was truly meant to be.

And she was supposed to allow it. To let the grains of time continue so the future would become past once more, a vicious cycle linking the Norn of What Shall Be and the Norn of What Once Was.

They had always been tied, two halves of a whole in opposition and seeing as far as could be seen along opposing sides of the continuum. Twins, sisters, rivals, and the creator of the other’s doom. She whimpered, her cells shrinking, the blood in her veins slowing like thick sludge.

A swell of heat crawled over her skin, burning more ashes, packing her with the memories of her failures she wore on her skin. How she wished he could shed it, release the living organism of her history.

Wasn’t that what everyone wanted?

To learn from their past, but leave the pain there?

But she could not. Always trapped, always torn to shreds.

“Nanshe!”

Choking on a gasped breath, she still fought. Not this time. She wouldn’t push him away. It didn’t matter what the past craved, she couldn’t see him walk away from her again. She didn’t care if he eventually came back, if they shared loved for just a few moments before he was ripped from her. The adage “it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all” was a fallacy to soothe those who’d never lost what was created just for them.

They’d never known love like the one between fused souls.

This time had been different.

Another heat surrounded her, tempered with the scent of tangy, sweet musk of the flowers on the Khalub-tree. Home. Children of the future may have deemed the tree a myth, but Nanshe knew better. Knew it had been a favorite of Inn–

No, she would not call her sister by that name here.

Nanshe took a deep breath, pulling Carlo’s scent into her lungs.

She wondered if he even recognized this part of himself. The one aroma that could soothe her. His hard arms clenched around her, and hot breath skirted over her neck.

“Here, tesoro. I’m right here. Breathe with me. Don’t tell me whatever it is.”

No!

“Trust you? Holder of Chaos.”

“I am more than Chaos.”

“The Chaos will kill me, Norn of the Past.”

“Or it will be your salvation.”

“You just want the power, is that it? Chaos always wants more.”

“The Chaos always has what it wants, and it will chain both of us.”

“Then I will stay away, and that will include you. I will never claim you, Past. Never. You betrayed me!”

Agony forced her spine rigid, and she cried out. She’d hold on to this, her nails piercing his skin as she clung to his chest. Not these words. The conversation, held so many times, finally completed in her head. A thousand variables of Carlo, having gone by so many names but carrying the same soul, turned and walked away from her and she’d been snatched back to Ashes to see how the future would become past once more.

“Nanshe, leave it.”

“No!” she screeched.

“Then tell me how to help you.”

“Claim me.”

He growled, but even that sound sang within her. “I know you are in pain. Is there no other way to stop this? Is what you’re trying to tell me that important?”

It’s what she wasn’t trying to reveal this time. She couldn’t say anything to alter the future, but that also meant she would be punished for not allowing it to play its course.

“Will …” He swallowed. She could feel the press of his throat against her. “Tell me truthfully, Chaos witch. Will mating stop this?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

He lifted her into his arms, cradling her jerking form against a hard chest that in other moments would make her breathless for a good reason. He stalked up the stairs, closer to the space she knew was his. When he reached the door, he shifted her so he could turn the knob, and even that small movement made her feel like her skin was ripping from her muscles.

“Hold on, tesoro. Just hold on.” They stumbled into the destruction of his room and he cursed.