SEVEN: HUNGER
475 Words
“Or I stop holding back.”
That moment changed everything. She realized he had been holding back all along. If he were to let go now, it would transform their training into something entirely different. Ember felt her heart race, not from fear, but from a thrilling intensity that was both exhilarating and reckless.
“Then don’t.”
The words escaped her lips before she could rein them in. In that instant, the atmosphere shifted between them once more. This time, the change was unmistakable. Bright froze entirely, as if something within him had either clicked into place or shattered. His expression darkened, not with anger or restraint, but with a far more perilous intensity. They both understood that this moment transcended mere lessons, the stakes had escalated.
By midday, Princess Ember found herself bleeding. It wasn't severe, but it was enough to sting, a cut marred her palm, another grazed her shoulder. Each wound was a testament to her struggles, each one a reminder of her shortcomings.
“Again.”
She barely felt her fingers anymore.
“I’m not healing,” she said, frustration breaking through. “I should be, this should be nothing.”
Bright circled her slowly.
“Whatever you were before,” he said, “you’re not that right now.”
“I know that.”
“Then stop expecting it.”
She lunged again, this time with increased speed and precision. He managed to block her strike, but it was a struggle, and she noticed a flicker of surprise in his eyes, evidence of her progress. Sensing the shift, Ember intensified her efforts, twisting to evade his defenses. In a swift motion, her hand connected with his chest, delivering a solid hit. They both paused, the moment stretching between them as her palm rested flat against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, strong, alive, and uncomfortably close. The awareness of their proximity hung in the air, charged and electric.
His eyes fell to the spot where her fingers brushed against him before returning to her face. A subtle change occurred, a shadow passing over his expression. Slowly, he raised his hand, deliberately encircling her wrist, not to push her away but to hold her there. Her breath hitched in her throat.
“You’re learning,” he said quietly.
His voice had shifted. It was deeper now, rougher around the edges. Her heart raced, a traitorous response she despised. She loathed that he could see it.
“Let go,” she said.
He held back, not right away. His grip on the situation tightened just a bit.
“Not yet.”
A sudden jolt pierced her chest, a clear signal of impending peril. This was not about the mountain or the biting cold, it was about him. The tension between them was evolving into something far more unsettling.
- Writer
