me. Flame’s hand suddenly reached out as far as the tie would allow, and he whispered, “The flames. The flames are too hot. I can’t… I can’t stop them… tied down… too much… kill me… please…”
“Flame,” I cried out on a sob. I shook my head. “I… I can’t… I—”
“Please…” The desperate timbre of his graveled voice cut into my soul, blistering my heart.
Flame’s head rolled to the side as another wave of pain racked his body. He had lost weight. His skin was a deathly white and his eyes were raw with pain.
Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath. When I opened them, I glanced up. On the wall was a strip of metal, magnetic metal holding rows and rows of knives. A roar spilled from Flame’s throat, and I knew that any calm he had mustered had just waned.
Kill me… the flames are too hot… I mulled over his words and his plea. And I found my feet slowly walking forward.
With each step a pit of sorrow burrowed further into my stomach. But my legs still carried me forward. I came to a stop below the row of knives and retrieved the one I had seen him hold as he paced beneath my window. It had a brown wooden handle. The blade was sharp, the steel so polished that the dim light hanging from the ceiling glistened on it, casting a shadow on the floor.
The small bed creaked and Flame released a loud roar. I closed my eyes and flinched. On a deep breath, I opened my eyes once more.
Steeling my nerves, I turned, just as Flame’s back bowed and his head writhed. Ensuring I had a tight grip on the knife, I swallowed back the anxiety holding my body captive, and moved forward. Hearing my movement, Flame snarled in my direction, but as his gaze fell on the knife in my hand, his body froze. And then I saw it, the look of relief in his eyes as they beheld the blade. The blade loosely held at my side.
Nostrils flaring, Flame tracked my movements until I came to a stop at his side. It was closer than I had been to him in many months. This close, I could see every detail of his body. I could see all of him, every scar, every cut, every bruise.
But I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. I had never looked at men. After what I had endured at the hands of males, I could not think of them as handsome. I had given no thought to the matter at all. I simply did not think like that. I had never felt butterflies in my stomach. I had never felt my heart flutter, had never felt myself losing my very breath. When Lilah and Mae would talk of Ky and Styx, when they would blush just describing their love’s faces, eyes, lips; I did not comprehend.
But standing here, over Flame, right now, staring at his anguished face—his sharp features: slightly crooked nose, full lips, dark short beard, and those soulful eyes, those incredibly long black lashes—a feeling previously unknown to me bloomed in my heart, filling me with light. With an incredible heat. This close, I felt a tension spark between us. I felt something magnetic surge in the air.
I… I wanted him as my own. In this moment, seeing the man who had become the center of my world, breaking, I wanted nothing more than to save him. To gift him the peace he so richly deserved, even if it meant sacrificing my newly-awakened heart in the process.
On a loud hiss, Flame’s body stiffened. My grip tightened on the handle of the knife. It felt like a ton weight in my hand, but I knew what I had to do. For Flame, I told myself, You must do this for Flame.
Steadying my shaking grip, I raised the blade, leaving it suspended it in the air. I inhaled deeply, then looked down at Flame. His beautiful eyes stalked me. With tears filling my eyes, I whispered, “Flame… I know you are lost right now. But I want to save you. I want to save you as you have so often saved me.” I swallowed the lump clogging my throat and continued. “I know you want eternal peace, but… but… I cannot… I cannot take your life.”
Tears streamed from my eyes, but I lowered my mouth to a few inches from his ear. “I know the flames torture