Chapter 5: Chapter 5

SILVER

“Bleed?” I murmur aloud, while Storm’s front is still warming my back. “Tell me, bonded mate of mine, why would you want to make me bleed…?”

My tone turns neutral as I gaze over the empty castle front, as pretty much everyone is still inside feasting away for the Feast of the Full Moon.

“Remind me what I said to you three weeks ago, pipsqueak,” Storm growls as his hand slips up my back over my ribbon-and-lace outfit that hardly covers my intimate areas.

However, despite his close proximity behind me and the clear threat in his tone, what he asks me to say next is easy.

“I remember like it was yesterday,” I answer without turning to face him.

“You said, ‘If you leave now, it is probably best. An innocent mind like yours…a ~kind~ soul like yours, does not need my corruption so soon.’

“But corruption, Storm… I wonder if you were referring to the corruption caused by pain…because I can assure you, I have felt it more since you pushed me away permanently—”

“~Permanency~ would only be when you’re dead, pipsqueak.” Storm’s hand slips from my hair at the nape of my neck to grip my throat.

“Ill advised, yet again. Let me advise you now. Space is not eternity. A break is not eternity. Three weeks is simply a breath of air, a sunrise and a single thought.

“Yet you ache that badly…because of me?

“That, dear Silver, is what you call”—Storm leans down, his lips hovering near my ear, my chest already aching with his suddenly calm attitude toward my pain—“pathetic.”

“How dare you—” I can’t finish my retort because he finishes for me by continuing as if I never spoke at all.

“Pathetic. Stupid. Naive. Young.” Storm says each word with a meaning that is not lost on me. My senses can feel his utter belief in his statements.

And just as my heart clenches further, I feel a cold slither of metal in the palm of my hand.

My emotional turmoil is broken as I flinch and look down to see he has slipped a knife in my hand and pressed the blade firmly but gently into my palm until a thin line is slit, and warm blood pools forth in droplets.

His hand slips from my throat, hovering away from my skin so his body does not make contact with mine.

Allowing me to escape.

I mist instantly to get away from him.

Perhaps I fall into the trap too quickly; perhaps I am stupid for jumping in without thinking…but I’m scared by the abrupt realization.

His term “bleed” ~literally~ meant bleed…not, as I assumed, a reference that he’d take my virginity, which often involves a little bit of blood.

Instead, his blade literally split my skin apart…and to me, that’s crossing a line.

So, my magic takes me around the castle and up high toward open windows. I know better than to slip into the forest.

I see many windows, but I feel the wind seems to push me toward the middle option against my will.

I slip through, and as I solidify by a warm fireplace in a clean, empty guest room with a large four-poster bed opposite the fire, I feel safe for a brief moment in time.

And then that moment vanishes as a familiar scent seeps from this bedchamber.

I see the solid form of another at the corner of my eye a second later.

Turning to my right, now naked and vulnerable in every sense, I shiver as I hear both the windows slam shut just as the door locks, and a spell is murmured in an old language to secure and surround the room.

Storm stands next to the end bedpost, still clothed, with half-hooded eyes and a lazy frown.

He holds the knife with my blood, and a drop of the red liquid casually slips off the tip and splotches on the floor.

“Eyes downcast, pipsqueak,” Storm murmurs, and I find myself looking down instantly, but it’s from fear.

“I cannot mist,” I say when I reach for my escape to transform, but the ability seems lost on me.

“I know magic you’ll possibly never grow old enough to learn, Silver.” Storm steps closer, and my body starts to shake as I raise my bleeding palm toward him while my gaze is focused upon his boots.

“You abandon me, and then you come back and make me bleed…

“You ~are~ corruption in the finest form,” I whisper and jerk when his hand clasps my raised palm…only for the pain to abruptly fade and disappear completely.

My gaze jumps to my hand to see his Broken Fire seeping into my wound and healing the cut. I watch it seal and appear as if it were never wounded. I jerk my hand back from him and raise my eyes.

Storm sees this coming and already has his hand raised to cover my gaze. Gently, he presses my forehead back down to watch his feet.

“As your Master of Feeling, I will teach you another lesson tonight,” Storm growls low. “Pain is welcome to some, unwelcome to others. Some people crave it. Some learn how to avoid it.

“Some, such as Silver Breeds, learn how to conquer it. The biggest mistake anyone makes in this life, Mortal, Dragon, Mage, or even Sprite, is to let pain conquer you.

“People fear it, and fear is natural. But fear is not truly what you want to conquer. What you should aim to conquer is pain.”

“Emotional and mental?” I ask, feeling ~that~ pain just by mentioning it. It floods into me, and I force myself to take a step backward, lifting my chin to meet Storm’s eyes.

“I told myself I would forever reject you…that I wouldn’t need you… Yet it’s ~because~ I need you and feel for you. I wish I didn’t. How can love be so painful? It is ironic how painful it can be.”

“Try slaughtering your mate and watching your babies maul each other to death,” Storm murmurs, not to be cruel, but simply to make a point.

He does not approach me, but his eyes look disapproving of my attempt to move back and gaze up into his eyes when he specifically told me to keep my eyes downcast.

“So you experienced the greatest pain, and what did it teach you?” I ask him, raising a brow and trying to keep emotion from overtaking my tone, my actions, and my thoughts.

I feel him lighten unexpectedly from my question, when I truly thought it’d just anger or enrage him.

“What did I gain…from surviving that pain? I found you,” Storm murmurs.

“Everyone in your life, including you yourself, will ask at one stage or another what is the meaning and the great reason behind your existence…especially when it’s sometimes so painful…like torture.

“People who can’t see past the maze of pain, who can’t see past the haze of burdens…will never see the other side. Reward…the greatest gifts life has to offer.

“They never come easy, Silver… You must know this if you wish to understand how I live.”

“So you believe we must all fail and experience torture to be better?” I ask him. “That can’t be applied to everyone.”

“Torture and pain are two things among many experiences. This is a lesson I don’t teach Students of Feeling until the end, but perhaps you’ll understand a glimpse of it by my words now…

“Experience all, experience everything… That is the Silver’s way. Unguided or guided, our Breed will always take that path of adventure. Until you realize it and accept it, the adventure is never hard…

“It’s easy…and you will grow into your greatest self. You will strive through, you will fail, and then you will succeed. But first, you have to learn something else…

“It’s the lesson I’m going to teach you tonight.”

“I thought the lesson was how experiencing things is what makes you grow to your full potential—”

“A mere reference, pipsqueak, to the greatest lesson of all, ~complete Mastery~ of your feelings. However, your lesson today is basic.” Storm smirks now, and he blinks slowly as he gazes over me.

“Defiance when you stepped away, defiance when you locked gazes with your Master, defiance when you tried so hard to insult me in front of others.”

“What lesson is that?” I ask him. “Be…rebellious? What Drax was trying to teach me?”

“Better than that,” Storm chuckles and takes out his knife again. I flinch, and he flips it through the air in a high arc toward me.

I grab the hilt, and the blade faces my mate while my legs shake with sudden adrenaline.

He picks out a blunt dinner knife from his pocket, something he obviously stole from the dining hall. “I thought this would come in handy.”

“You want me to attack you?” I growl and hold my weaponed hand down to my side, while he holds the butter knife up between us.

Storm watches me, unblinking as he reads my emotions of confusion.

He is not happy that I don’t understand.

“Pipsqueak,” Storm growls impatiently. “Fight—that’s the basic lesson. You will fight, and when you learn to fight, you will conquer your pain, your fear, and everything that stands in your way.”

“To cut down anyone that stands in my way with a knife? Ridiculous,” I snap back at him, still confused. “You make no sense—”

“Fight with weapons; fight with words; fight by running if you have to.” Storm rolls his eyes, exasperated to the point his Broken Fire leaks more readily.

“But ~fighting~ comes from ~passion~, and ~passion~ comes from the ~heart~, and your ~heart~ is a ~reflection~ of your ~soul~.” He points his blunt knife to his chest and then tilts his head at me.

“Let me ask you a favor while you stand and reflect upon my words.”

“Fine.” I shrug and continue to stand, unsure of myself. I’m debating what to do if he lunges at me with a blunt knife or tries to provoke me into fighting him.

I’m still conflicted about whether I should fight or simply refuse to engage.

“Ask me if I missed you.” Storm seems far too smug asking me to ask this, and I feel he is being a cocky bastard, but I decide to humor him just this once.

“Fine. Storm, did you miss me?” I ask, and the pain instantly hits my chest again. I know that I missed him…truly…so I hope he’ll reciprocate the feeling.

“Not at all, pipsqueak,” Storm murmurs in reply and does not blink as he watches me internally cringe, the response showing through my aura that he’s assessing so acutely.