Chapter 16 Would You Still Choose Me?
INDIE
The first contender stepped forward with the confidence of a man who'd never lost a game in his life. He was tall, his dark hair swept back. And his blue eyes glittered with greed as they raked over me. He didn't even bother hiding it. His lips curved in a slow, hungry smile, like he could already taste victory.
He climbed the dais steps without hesitation.
The crowd held its breath.
I sat rigid on the seat, my fingers digging into the cushioned arms as this stranger closed the distance. He reached out, ready to lay his palm against my cheek.
He never made contact.
A choked scream tore from his throat before his fingers even brushed my skin. His body seized, his spine arching backward as though an invisible hand had yanked him by the soul. Golden flames erupted from the point where he should have touched me, scorching his hand. He collapsed to his knees, writhing, the smell of charred flesh filling the air.
The crowd gasped.
I stared in horror, bile rising in my throat.
The second contender didn't seem to have learned any lesson.
He strode up next, smiling like this was all part of the show, as if he could somehow charm his way through the trial. He lifted his hand, confidence still painted across his face.
The same thing happened.
He let out a scream as my flames burst out from me.
He dropped like a stone, convulsing, his skin blistering where the fire had kissed him. The smell hit me harder this time: burned hair, seared meat, and acrid smoke.
My stomach lurched.
By mid-afternoon, several men had tried. And they had all failed.
Each one screamed. They all burned without ever laying a finger on me. The clearing reeked of scorched flesh. The remaining men still knelt, but the reverence in their postures had cracked. Some eyes now held terror beneath the hunger.
I couldn't breathe properly anymore.
The drums had gone silent. The only sound was the low crackle of dying embers where the fallen had writhed and the ragged rasp of my own breathing.
I turned to look at Mara, my voice shaking. "I need a break."
She studied me for a long moment. She must have seen the nausea on my face and the way my hands trembled.
"Very well, Flamekeeper," she uttered softly. "A short reprieve. Return when the sun has shifted."
I stood on unsteady legs. Eldora and the attendants immediately flanked me, ready to escort me into the main building.
Once we got to the door of my room, they attempted to follow me in.
"No," I said, my voice colder than I intended. "I want to be alone. Stay outside the door."
Eldora's eyes widened. "Flamekeeper, it is not—"
"As the Flamekeeper," I cut in, letting icy authority bleed into my voice, "I order you to remain outside. All of you."
She flinched slightly but bowed her head. "As you command."
They obeyed.
The moment the heavy door closed behind me, I slid down the wall until my silk robes pooled around me on the cool stone floor. I drew my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.
The smell of burning flesh clung to my hair and my skin, unpleasantly. I pressed my face into my forearms and tried not to gag.
What if I burn Zade?
The flames had been gentle with him last night. But they were growing. I could feel it in the low, constant heat under my skin. What if the next time he touched me, the fire didn't recognize him? What if it devoured him the way it had devoured those men outside?
I squeezed my eyes shut. Tears burned behind my lids.
I couldn't lose him. Especially not after everything.
A soft scrape at the arched window made my head snap up.
And there he was.
Zade.
He was leaning casually against the stone sill, one leg bent, the other stretched out, his arms crossed over his chest. The tight black tee clung to every line of muscle, the sleeves stretched over his biceps. His violet eyes glowed faintly, locked on me with that dangerous, sinful intensity that always made my pulse pound.
He was a literal walking temptation.
"Zade," I whispered, barely breathing.
He didn't smile. He simply tilted his head, studying me the way a predator studies something precious and breakable.
"Bunny," he drawled, his voice low and rough. "You look like you're about to cry."
I swallowed hard. "They're burning. Every man who tries to touch me. They collapse before they even reach me. The flames... they're protecting me, but they're hurting them."
He pushed off the sill in one fluid motion, dropping silently into the room. The moment his boots touched the floor, the air shifted and became electric, thick with his scent.
He covered the distance in three strides and crouched in front of me, his forearms resting on his thighs, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him.
"But they didn't burn me last night," he said. "Did they?"
I shook my head, my throat tight. "No. They danced on you. Like they knew you."
His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes. "Then maybe they'll recognize me again."
"What if they don't?" My voice cracked. "Mara said the flames are growing. What if next time—"
He reached out slowly and cupped my face with one large hand. His thumb brushed the tear track on my cheek. The moment his skin met mine, golden fire traveled along my arms. It curled towards him like a cat seeking warmth, licking over his wrist and his forearm, harmless.
He didn't flinch.
Instead, the corner of his mouth lifted in that dark, dangerous half-smile.
"See?" he murmured. "They remember."
I let out a shaky breath instantly.
He leaned closer, his forehead almost touching mine. "I'm going to walk out there, Bunny. I'm going to touch you in front of every last one of them. And when the flames come for me, they're going to let me through. Because you're mine. And nothing—not fire, not prophecy, not a fucking army of alphas—is going to change that."
I stared into those endless violet eyes, my heart slamming against my ribs.
"Promise me you won't get hurt," I whispered.
His thumb traced my bottom lip.
"I promise I'll make them all watch while I prove it."
Then he kissed me slow and deep. I drank him in, tasting him. Goddess, I wanted more. No, I needed more.
I reached for him, my hands fisting in his black tee, pulling him closer until there was no space left between us. He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through my chest, and his fingers slid into my hair, tilting my head so he could deepen the kiss.
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, he didn't pull away far. His forehead rested against mine, his eyes half-lidded and molten.
I felt the first tear slip down my cheek despite myself.
Zade's thumb swept it away immediately. Then he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.
"Don't cry, Bunny," he murmured against my skin, his voice rough. "Not over this. Or over me."
I swallowed hard, my throat thick. "I'm scared."
"I know." He pressed another kiss to my temple, then another to the corner of my eye. "But you don't need to be."
I pulled back just enough to look at him. My gaze traced over his stunning face, drifting over his thick black hair that fell over one part of his forehead now, dipping past his collar. Black ear piercings glinted at his ears, one of his eyebrows slashed. It’s been that way since we were kids.
My fingers traced the line of his jaw, feeling the faint stubble and the tension he carried even now.
"Zade..." My voice came out small. "If I wasn't the Flamekeeper, if I didn't have this power, would you still choose me?"
He went still.
For one terrifying second, I thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he exhaled through his nose, the sound almost amused. He slowly rose to his full height, towering over me again, and turned towards the window like he was already planning his exit.
But he paused at the sill, glancing back over his shoulder.
The look he gave me was pure Zade—dark, wicked, and utterly possessive, with his signature smile tugging at his lips.
"Bunny," he said, his deep voice rumbling, "if you were just some random girl in a bar with no fire, no prophecy, no fucking throne—I'd still have dragged you out the back door, pinned you against the nearest wall, and fucked you until you forgot your own name. Then I'd have thrown you over my shoulder and taken you home so I could do it again. And again. Until you couldn't walk straight and every other male in a ten-mile radius knew you were mine."
He casually shrugged one shoulder, like he was discussing the weather.
"Flamekeeper or not, you're mine. The fire's just a bonus."
Heat rushed from my chest to my cheeks instantly.
He blew me a lazy kiss—two fingers to his lips, then a flick toward me—his eyes never leaving mine.
"See you at dusk, Bunny."
And then he was gone.
Just then, there was a frantic knock on the door. I turned to open it. One of the attendants hurried in, pressing her back against the door. She swallowed hard, sweat dripping down the side of her face.
“You can’t trust them,” she croaked, and I frowned.
“What?”