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Breaking Storm

Page 3

by Lola Malone

Daven stood there panting, staring at what he’d done. “It’s done,” he breathed, not sure if he should feel proud or sick.

His cock throbbed. So that answered that.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then the arena roared as a wave of adoration crashed onto the sand.

Daven looked up, chest heaving. He’d fucking done it. The whole world was on its feet for him. Helion’s youngest Essential.

The blood-red ceremonial garment clung damply to his skin. With one final flare, he turned toward the Imperial Gallery and gave a shallow bow to his cousins.

When he looked up, he searched for the face of his favorite uncle.

Part of him needed a sign. Needed to know he’d lived up to the example they’d set for him. He could already picture it. Moargan’s approval. Kylix grinning like a bastard. Helianth practically vibrating with excitement.

Daven wanted them to be proud of him.

Letting the roar blur into useless sound, he started walking back through the gate. He needed release. Fast.

But just as he was about to step out of the arena, the pressure shifted.

Daven stopped. Looked up at the night above the city. At the stars.

Then he felt it—a raw flicker of electricity colliding with the air that always clung around him.

Raising his hand, he reached for his power and met a sharp snap of resistance. Static.

Daven frowned at the current trapped in his invisible hold, watching it twitch before it died with a muted hiss.

Something was arriving. Something that pushed back.

And it had begun to breathe.

1

RYNETH

Ryneth Kyron kept his hands tight in his pockets so no one would see the static jumping between his fingers.

Düren’s main off-world dock was never quiet. Engines whined. Voices overlapped. Somewhere in the bay, a cargo crate hit metal, making the structure vibrate with every impact. Even inside the dock hall, the air stung his throat.

Or maybe it was just his gut tightening, the way it always did when he ignored better judgment.

It was money that had brought him here. Always money.

Money bought breathing room. Without it, nothing opened. And this was the option that paid best.

Ryneth shifted forward with the line, work bag at his feet, thin paper ticket clenched in his hand, eyes moving over the bay while he waited. They looked to be from all over the Velaryn Reach, five planets tied together whether they liked it or not.

The canvas of his coat pulled tight across his shoulders, patched where the seams had given out in the wind.

Shivering, he turned over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of the Ward, the tall concrete wall topped with wire that hemmed in the housing behind it.

He’d protected it many times from the ones who didn’t leave footprints. The ones people swore came without sound and took whoever they wanted from behind the Ward.

No one ever saw their faces.

Only the empty beds after.

Ryneth dragged his gaze back forward with another shudder. He would’ve given the coat to Tavi as some pathetic reminder that he’d still protect him even from far away, but the damn thing was too worn to last another few months here.