The sky was a deep purple color, it was breathtakingly beautiful to see.
I stood at the balcony railing, my fingers gripping tight to the iron rail, and looked out over the storm clouds racing across the ocean. The wind tugged at my hair, cold and aching with salt, the ocean waves crashing rough and far away below. It was as though it was within me — loose, wild, something uncoiling.
The villa behind me was eerily quiet as always.
The guards had doubled overnight, dark figures at all the entrances, the radios spewing out coded messages that I couldn't understand. The veneer of normalcy we'd fought so hard to keep up had shattered into two halves, and there was only the bitter taste of fate left to occupy the space.
I heard the creak of the door opening. The
slam as it closed.
Caspian walked towards me quietly.
But I didn't turn back to acknowledge his presence.
I couldn't.
Not when already I knew what he was going to tell me.
"We have to find another place to stay," he whispered softly.
I gripped my hand around the railing tightly, the acrid metal biting hard into my skin. "No.".
Caspian took three strides across the balcony, his body crashing into mine like a wave. He didn't touch me, but he might have — the air between us heavy and charged, humming like lightning ready to strike.
"He has been here before," he murmured, his voice now rough, tinged with annoyance. "I am sure he will do it again."
I rose and turned towards him, my hair whipping about my head. "So we just run?"
His jaw hardened, the muscle in his cheek twitching. "It's not running. It's surviving."
I nodded, the storm in me more ferocious. "I can't live like this anymore, Caspian. In fear. Holding my breath every second as if I am waiting for the inevitable to happen. I can't —" I swallowed and my voice shook, biting my lip as hard as I could, tasting blood.
He leaned closer, so that there was only an inch or two of air between us, his chest going up and down as if he was holding back.
"Do you think I don't feel the same way?"
His voice a shiver of ice, his eyes burning into mine. "Do you think I don't despise this?"
His hand reached out, fingers closing around the railing beside me, pinning me in place.
"But I will not lose you, Lily."
Those words shattered me.
I gazed up at him, my own throat closing, and I could only catch a glimpse of pain — the fear hiding behind the anger, the loneliness fighting to keep down. It came from him, clung to the air between us like a miasma.
He wasn't just scared for me.
He was scared for himself too.
And that somehow made it worse.
"I'm not going," I told him, my voice shaking. "This is my life, Caspian. I choose how I want to live."
He exhaled a harsh breath, working his fingers back through his hair, pacing the length of the balcony as if he had to escape his body from the fury pouring out of him.
And then he stood still.
Turned around.
And his eyes landed on mine with such force it stuck in my throat.
You think I can go without you?" he growled, his tone lethal. "You think that I can just — what? Let you stay here? With the chance that he will come back? With the chance that I'll have to stand around and watch you kill yourself?"
I flinched, the words a blow to the heart.
He closed the gap between us in an instant, his hand wrapped around my face, holding me tightly to make me see him. His palms roughened by some task, his grip ached — but his eyes ached more.
For it was not rage.
It was despair.
"It would kill me," he gritted, the words shattering like jagged glass inside his throat. "You would kill me."
My own heart torn apart.
I hated him for speaking like that.
Hated him for loving me so passionately that it hurt.
Hated myself for loving him in similar fashion.
Tears burned at the edge of my eyes, and I raised my hands, my fingers curling around his wrists and pulling his hands from my face. But I did not let him go.
"I don't know how to exist without you either," I admitted, the truth ripped from me. "But this — this is not living, Caspian. This is existing."
His forehead crashed into mine, his breathing in and out for air, and for an instant we stood — jammed together, trembling, like two broken things seeking their spot again.
"I don't care," he snarled, his tone husky. "I don't care if it's not living. I don't care if it's surviving. I just want you to live."
I wanted to fight.
Wanted to scream.
Necessary to get through to him that he couldn't bubble wrap me and bury me away.
But the moment his lips crashed into mine, I lost all capacity for thought.
The kiss was not gentle.
It was rage and fear and a thousand things unspoken, all pouring out of him in waves. His fists clamped in my hair, his chest pounding me into the railing, as if he were trying to blend us together into one shape.
Perhaps if he wrapped himself around me enough, I would never slip from his arms.
I kissed him back the same way with the same fervor, nails raking his shoulders, fingers tearing flesh.
I wanted him.
I hated him.
I was pitifully in love with him so wretchedly that it hurt constantly.
It was not until we pulled ourselves away finally that we were both breathless, foreheads touching, skipped a beat to our hearts.
"I can't promise you nothing won't happen," I croaked, my broken voice. "But I promise you I have no fear to fight back."
Caspian cradled my face in his hand, his thumb pressing against my cheekbone, burning his eyes into mine as though memorizing each plane of my face.
"I'll fight," he promised, his voice strong. "I'll fight for you every single day of my life. But I need you to let me win."
I shut my eyes, the reality of what he was saying close enough to break me.
Because I knew that he was being truthful.
And I hated it more than anything.