SEVENTEEN: THE LINE THAT BREAKS
2226 Words
Drained, sated and more than a little dazed, Princess Ember closed her eyes and clung to his wide shoulders, relieved that he was still holding her, otherwise she had a strong suspicion that she would have drowned and died happy.
Surely, Alpha Bright had to care in order to respond like that? And he’d changed towards her, she felt it. He’d softened in his attitude. They shared a bond that wasn’t just s****l. Did they, just possibly, have some sort of future?
Watching Ember with more sweat, as she lying in his arms, Alpha Bright wondered why it was that everything about her fascinated him. And why, he wondered with a faint frown, had repeated s*x done nothing to dampen his ravenous libido? He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he just might be addicted to Ember's incredibly lithe, her seductive body.
Then.. he noticed the faint shadows under her eyes with a frown. " Are you tired?"
"This is going to sound really crazy but I feel as though I’ve lost my family" Ember swallowed hard.
"And I know it’s mad to feel that way because obviously they never cared about me, but that’s a really hard thing to accept. I’ve spent my entire life trying to please them and make them proud of me but it’s obvious that my brother didn’t ever want me to succeed. That’s pretty hard to take."
"Why?’ He frowned at her. "That says everything about your family and nothing about you."
"I know that.." she said in a small voice.. "but it isn’t that easy"
Alpha Bright sighed. "Having children is a massive responsibility which the majority of people get hideously wrong," he said in his usual cynical drawl. "Which just goes to show that you should never put your faith in people. Better to rely on yourself."
"And I do. I always have done." Her eyes slid away from his. "But what sort of life is it, without love?"
"A simple one?" Seriously disconcerted by the direction of the conversation,.
Alpha Bright reached across the table and piled some food on her plate, noting that she didn’t eat anywhere near enough. "Forget it, now. You need to toughen up and learn to be less trusting."
"Just give enough, Im not hungry." she held up a hand to stop him filling her plate "And I’m not sure that I really want to toughen up. I don’t really want to live the sort of life where I don’t feel anything."
"Believe me, it’s much simpler that way," Alpha Bright assured her and she lifted her eyes to his. Everything about him tensed in an instinctive rejection of her intimate question, but then he told himself that a short reminder of other people’s failings might help her build that shell she so badly needed.
Bright realize all of these. Until the silences fell in. The kind of silence that pressed against his instincts until they sharpened into useful things. He thinks it would be great if she stays with him, for the rest of his life.
For hours without rest, Alpha Bright slept deeply, until he woke up to see Ember, who seemed to be practicing her power of fire.
Ember didn’t push back. Like distance itself had become a risk but she was willing to take.
“How many hours you do that?” Bright asked. His gaze swept the treeline again.
“More than five.”
Bright didn’t need to see all of the scene to know. He could feel it. That Ember is now starting to be more stronger than before.
“You're.body is adapting.”
“Because of you.. I can easily adapt in this mortal world."
A low growl built in his chest, not loud but constant. Bright almost forgot that Ember is actually an immortal one, now the remaining question in his mind is, how can he fated on this immortal one?
“Then don't stop.”
“Copy that.." Ember said.
Her voice turned cold while his eyes was closed. But the moment is sharp enough to cut through the tension.
“I will prepared our breakfast. Just continue" Alpha Bright told her.
That fire again. But it wasn’t reckless anymore, it only focuss on something that had been broken, and come back harder. Then... the movement of shadows slipping between trees. as if they stepped into view.
Not fully shifted. Their eyes glowed, that same unnatural silver?
Bright’s muscles tensed. "Just stay near me.”
“I’m not hiding anymore.” Ember suddenly said.
Their eyes locked. And for a split second, it wasn’t about the threat. It was about control. ateust and fear.
Trust.
Fear.
Everything neither of them said out loud.
Then—
the attackers lunged.
Everything shattered into motion.
They didn’t move like the last one.
No hesitation.
No chaos.
This was calculated.
Two broke toward Bright.
Three straight for Ember.
Bright shifted mid-stride—
bone snapping, muscle tearing, reforming—
his wolf form exploding into existence with violent force.
Massive.
Relentless.
He hit the first attacker head-on, jaws closing with brutal precision.
No wasted movement.
No mercy.
But the others—
they were faster.
Smarter.
One slipped past him.
Straight for her.
Ember didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t flinch.
Her hand rose—
and fire answered.
Not wild.
Not explosive.
Controlled.
She felt it this time.
Every spark.
Every movement.
Like it was an extension of her will.
The flame struck mid-lunge—
slamming the attacker sideways into the snow with a sharp crack.
It didn’t get back up.
Another came from behind.
Too fast.
Too close.
She turned—
not fast enough.
Claws tore across her side.
Pain ripped through her.
Hot.
Blinding.
Her breath hitched—
but she didn’t fall.
Didn’t freeze.
Didn’t break.
Not anymore.
Her hand shot out—
grabbing the attacker’s arm.
And then—
she burned.
Not outward.
Not explosive.
Focused.
Contained.
The fire wrapped around her grip—
searing through flesh.
A scream tore through the air—
raw, inhuman—
before it collapsed into nothing.
Ash scattered into the snow.
Ember staggered slightly.
Breathing hard.
But still standing.
Still fighting.
She turned—
and saw the last one.
Too close.
Bright was still engaged.
Too far.
Time narrowed.
Everything slowed—
just enough to understand what was about to happen.
The attacker lunged.
And something in Bright broke.
Not control—
something deeper.
He moved before thought.
Before instinct.
Before anything.
A blur of motion—
he slammed into it mid-air.
His jaws closed around its throat.
A sickening crunch echoed through the clearing.
Then—
nothing.
Silence dropped.
Sudden.
Heavy.
Snow began to fall again.
Soft.
Almost gentle.
Like the mountain was pretending none of it had happened.
But it had.
And it lingered.
Bright shifted back slowly.
Breathing hard.
Chest rising and falling with restrained force.
But his attention—
never went to the bodies.
Never to the threat.
Only to her.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I know.”
Too calm.
Too dismissive.
He crossed the distance instantly.
No space.
No hesitation.
His hands were on her before she could react.
Firm.
Urgent.
Checking the wound.
But his touch—
lingered.
Fingers pressing just slightly longer than needed.
Like he was confirming she was still there.
Still real.
“You should’ve stayed behind me,” he muttered.
Low.
Tight.
“And you should’ve trusted me.”
His hands stilled.
His head snapped up.
Their eyes locked.
Something darker flickered in his.
Something raw.
Unfiltered.
“I don’t trust anything that can be taken from me.”
The words came out rough.
Too honest.
Too close to something he didn’t let himself say.
They hit harder than he intended.
Ember didn’t step back.
Didn’t soften.
Didn’t look away.
“I’m not something you can lose.”
The air shifted.
That wasn’t defiance.
That wasn’t arrogance.
That was something else.
Something fragile—
trying to sound unbreakable.
His grip tightened slightly on her side.
Not enough to hurt.
Enough to feel.
To remind himself she was still there.
Still solid beneath his hands.
His voice dropped.
Quieter now.
More dangerous because of it.
“Everything can be lost.”
A beat.
Snow catching in her hair.
Melting against her skin.
Ember held his gaze.
Unflinching.
“Then maybe you should stop acting like you can stop it.”
That—
landed deeper than anything else.
Because she was right.
And he knew it.
And it didn’t change a thing.
His hand slid from her wound—
up to her arm—
then stilled.
Like he almost did something more—
and stopped himself at the last second.
The distance between them felt thinner than it should’ve been.
Charged.
Unresolved.
Because the truth sat there—
clearer now than ever.
He couldn’t control this.
Not the enemy.
Not the mark.
Not her.
And definitely—
not what he felt.
Back in the cave, the tension didn’t ease.
It tightened.
Coiled.
Like something waiting for the smallest spark to ignite it again.
Bright worked in silence.
Cleaning the wound on her wrist.
Careful—
but not gentle.
Too precise.
Too controlled.
Like he was forcing his hands to behave while everything else in him didn’t.
“You’re being rough,” Ember said.
Her voice was steady.
But there was an edge under it.
Testing.
Pushing.
“You’ve had worse.”
Flat.
Dismissive.
But his grip tightened just slightly as he said it.
“Not from you.”
That—
landed.
His hand stilled.
Just for a second.
A flicker.
Gone almost as soon as it appeared.
Then he continued.
Slower now.
Measured.
Like he was recalibrating something he didn’t want to acknowledge.
“Why do you care?” he asked.
The question came out low.
Not sharp.
Not defensive.
Something quieter.
More dangerous.
Ember watched him.
Too closely.
“Why do you?”
There it was again.
That question.
The one he never answered.
The one that kept circling back no matter how many times he shut it down.
It settled between them like a blade pressed flat against skin.
Bright exhaled sharply.
“I don’t have the luxury of caring.”
A deflection.
Clean.
Practiced.
Useless.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Her voice didn’t rise.
It didn’t need to.
It held.
Pressed.
Refused to let him slip away from it.
His jaw tightened.
A muscle flickered.
“I protect what’s in front of me. That’s it.”
“Even if it destroys you?”
His hands stopped completely this time.
No movement.
No pretense.
Just stillness.
Heavy.
His voice dropped when he spoke.
Low enough to feel more than hear.
“It won’t.”
Ember didn’t hesitate.
“Liar.”
Soft.
Quiet.
Certain.
And that word—
cut deeper than anything else she’d said.
Something in him snapped.
Not loudly.
Not explosively.
Just—
gone.
That last piece of control he’d been holding onto.
This time, he didn’t stop himself.
Didn’t think.
Didn’t measure.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him.
Too fast.
Too close.
The same position as before—
but nothing about it felt controlled now.
No pause.
No warning.
His lips crashed into hers.
Hard.
Rough.
All restraint gone.
It wasn’t careful.
It wasn’t hesitant.
It was everything he hadn’t said—
everything he refused to admit—
breaking through in the only way it could.
Anger.
Frustration.
Fear.
And something sharper underneath it all—
something that had been building for far too long.
Ember froze.
Just for a heartbeat.
Shock flickering through her system.
Then—
she pushed back.
Not away.
Into it.
Her hand fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer instead of stopping him.
If he was going to cross the line—
so was she.
The kiss deepened.
Turned messy.
Uncontrolled.
Like neither of them knew how to do this without turning it into a fight.
Or maybe—
this was the fight.
Just a different kind.
His hand slid from her wrist to her side, gripping tighter than necessary.
Like he needed to anchor himself.
Or her.
Or both.
Her breath hitched against him.
But she didn’t pull away.
Didn’t slow down.
Didn’t make it easier.
If anything—
she matched him.
Heat for heat.
Force for force.
Until it stopped being about anger—
and started becoming something far more dangerous.
Something neither of them had a name for.
And that—
that’s when he broke it.
Bright pulled back abruptly.
Like he’d just realized what he’d done.
Or what he hadn’t been able to stop.
His breathing was uneven.
Controlled—but barely.
His eyes stayed on hers.
Darker now.
Not just with anger.
With awareness.
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
The words felt wrong the second they left his mouth.
Like he didn’t believe them.
Like he needed to say them anyway.
Ember’s pulse hammered in her ears.
Her lips still burned.
Her hand hadn’t fully let go of his shirt.
“Then don’t lie next time.”
No hesitation.
No softness.
But her voice wasn’t as steady as before.
There was something underneath it now.
Something exposed.
Something real.
Silence followed.
Thick.
Unforgiving.
Because the truth sat there between them—
clearer than anything they’d said out loud.
Neither of them regretted it.
And that—
was the real problem.
- Writer
