Bitter Brambles (The Ivy Institute #2)

Chapter 19

ZIV

I begin to drag the quill over the tablet, barely beginning the first letter of the word I intend to write before losing the nerve. I know exactly what I want to say. I’m just not sure how she’s going to respond to the idea, and I would be lying if I didn’t have some of my own reservations. The idea I’m about to propose is invasive on every level. There is nothing she will be able to hide from me if she agrees, and the same goes for me. She will be privy to every single thought in my head, past and present, but she will still be at a serious disadvantage.

I believe there is a way we could speak. Usually, it would require physical touch, but since we are already connected, I believe it would work.

What would work?

Mental communication.

It’s not an accident that I’m looking straight at her while writing. I need to see her reaction. I wish I could say my only concern stems from making sure she understands what it would entail and the risk involved, but my mind doesn’t work the same way hers does. Getting a glimpse inside my head could easily overwhelm her senses. Her mind may shut down to protect her, leaving her with no memory or comprehension of what she felt, but the truth is, there’s a small part of me that is worried she will outright deny me before I even have a chance to explain. Briar has been closed off since the day she accepted we aren’t coming for her. I foolishly thought that would change after our reunion, but if anything, she feels even further away than before. I know there are things she’s keeping from me, and I’m driving myself insane with the need to know the secrets I see behind her beautiful, guarded eyes.

She tilts her head a little, examining my features as if she might see through me. I have no idea what she sees in my gaze, but when she doesn’t reject the notion immediately, I write out a detailed explanation, allowing her time to digest the idea and the magnitude of my request, then end my message with a vow.

I would never do anything to hurt you.

As long as you don’t think it will make me stronger.

Her eyes slice right through me, and I can’t even deny her claim. We both know she’s right. I’ve always pushed her because I know she’s capable of so much more than she believes, but maybe I shouldn’t have.

How do we do it?

She wiggles around, pretending like she’s trying to get comfortable, but I know her uneasiness has nothing to do with her physical position.

I put my palm on the glass, hoping she will follow suit even though it’s not necessary because the connection is purely mental. My eyes are already on her, since they rarely stray from her face, but I lock my gaze on hers. A tremor of fear tries to worm its way into my thoughts. There’s a chance she’s going to question why I didn’t try this sooner, and there’s no easy explanation for that. There are several reasons, but none of them are good enough anymore.

When I see her take a deep breath then lift her hand to place it over the reflection of mine, I mouth, “Let me in.”

My confidence in my ability to bridge the distance between us wavers after about thirty seconds, and I feel my resolve falter. Briar shifts uncomfortably, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m doing a poor job of hiding my disappointment or if she’s just as impatient as I am. Just as I’m about to lean over and pick up the tablet to excuse another failure, a trickle of fear, much different than my own, brushes across my senses.

It takes me another heartbeat to isolate the thread of fear then follow the delicate strand deeper into Briar. My own trepidation grows when I find nothing but emptiness.

Hello. I try my voice when my senses fail me.

Hi. Her soft reply would have dropped me to my knees if I wasn’t too afraid to move and break the fragile connection.

Flower? I can’t help but ask for confirmation. If I didn’t have every nuance of her voice memorized, I would swear it isn’t even her because I still can’t sense anything from her but that single note of fear that drew me in.

Ziv. A tremor of longing accompanies her throaty response. I take a deep breath, even though I’m not certain I didn’t imagine the ache in her tone when she said my name. I assumed slipping into her mind, her thoughts, would be easy, but clearly, I was wrong.

I should have done more to protect you , I confess, selfishly pleading for forgiveness because I don’t know how long she will abide my presence. I could try to push through her defenses, but I could hurt her and lose her trust in doing so. Neither outcome is an option.

Briar breaks eye contact, but thankfully it doesn’t sever the tentative connection. My weakness was a burden.

Hearing her say those words and knowing I made her feel that way threatens to shred what little control I have at the moment. You have never been weak nor a burden, Briar.

Her eyes slowly return to mine, but the only thing in her gaze is incredulity. Says the god who spent nearly every waking moment training me, but still had to feed me his blood so I could survive the education.

I will not apologize for doing anything that ensures your survival.

I never asked you to. I never asked you to apologize at all. A thread of anger seeps through whatever shield she’s using to keep me out. I want to ask her how she’s doing it and demand she stop, but this defiant Briar is an unknown to me, and I’m afraid to push her too much.

You never ask for anything , I snap, proving I’m just as testy as she is.

That’s funny. Not so long ago, I remember begging you to come for me, begging for food, for fire to get warm, and for anything to make the pain stop, but mostly, I remember pleading for death. Her brilliant gold eyes go flat with disdain.

I bite back the immediate refusal to accept her words as it springs to my lips. I want to scold her for even uttering it, but self-preservation keeps my mouth sealed.

Strange that you can hear me now but not then , she accuses with a dispassionate glower.

Gods, have I already lost her? Will she ever forgive me? I didn’t hear you, Briar. I didn’t even try to listen. Admitting the truth isn’t easy, but it’s the only way forward. I have to make her understand why I allowed her to think we abandoned her.

I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. Her bitter laugh echoes in my head and feels like a blade piercing my gut.

I was terrified that anything I did would get you killed, or they would sever our bond. While Briar seems to be in complete control of her thoughts, I can’t say the same for myself. It wasn’t my intent to say anything about our bond or my fear of them using it against her. If she’s privy to my spiraling thoughts, she shows no indication.

I focus on what is truly important instead of my continued failings. Everything I did or didn’t do was to keep you safe.

You found a way you deemed safe to communicate, but you let me keep thinking I lost you! Briar’s rage slams into me like a physical blow. It’s an emotion I thought I knew intimately, yet the sentiment coming from her is almost unfamiliar. Just under the fury is pain laced with so much loneliness, it’s nearly crippling.

You didn’t trust me! I let a sliver of my own emotion be heard when I respond harshly. She reacts as if I struck her, flinching back. I take a calming breath before continuing the thought. I told you there was no place where you could hide from me and that I would always find you, and you didn’t trust me.

She shakes her head slowly, and a tear rolls down her cheek unchecked. Which is exactly why I knew you could find me if you wanted to and you never came, never even tried to let me know what was going on. You abandoned me by choice. The pain in her voice and on her face makes me long for the anger she gave me just moments ago.

I actually believe that you did it to protect me, but we both know you could have done more. Briar hastily swipes at the tears falling down her face, as if she’s frustrated she has to acknowledge them at all.

Another immediate denial springs to my lips, but I force myself to examine what she said. Could I have done something different and found a way to let her know we didn’t leave her to rot? Yes. The answer isn’t even a hard one to come by, but the reason why I didn’t is. A large part of it was to protect her. I thought leaving her in the dark would mean she didn’t have anything to be used against her, but part of me was scared too. I was afraid of what I would find and how I would react to it. There’s no way I could have sat here knowing she was starving, freezing to death, or worse.

I was terrified that my reaction would be what got her killed. I told myself she was okay, that she was strong, and she had to know I would come for her, but in truth, those thoughts only comforted me.

You’re right , I agree reluctantly. Denying it would only hurt her more. I let my fear control me. Admitting that is harder, and I doubt I would have even been able to do it out loud. I may not be a true god anymore, but it seems I still have a problem acknowledging when I’m wrong.

I’ll do better. It’s the only thing I can say.

Briar’s chest rises sharply when she pulls in a deep breath. If I wasn’t watching her so intently, I might not have noticed the slight shift in her features, the softening around her eyes and mouth, but it’s impossible not to be completely consumed by her. Seeing her and hearing even the echo of her voice in my head only makes me crave more of her. I need to touch her and be surrounded in her scent. The urge to go to her is nearly impossible to ignore, even with the knowledge that it could put her in danger. Part of me wants to defy the gods and dare them to try to take her from me again, but it would be more than foolish to challenge them, especially when I still don’t know why she was taken from me in the first place.

Okay. Her acceptance is so soft, I wonder for a moment if I really heard her at all, until she questions, Will you be at the selection? I’d swear there is a note of hope in her tone, but I could be reading too much into it.

Yes, it will be my first chance at seeing the gods and confirming who is behind this.

Have you spoken to Syrinx?

I haven’t left this room.

Briar’s shoulders slump, and her full lips curl down in a frown. I shouldn’t have waited so long.

I dismiss her with a wave of my hand. She doesn’t need to be concerned about making me wait. I would wait an eternity if I had to.

She lets out a weak chuckle. And that makes me feel worse.

That wasn’t my intent. I just want you to know you did nothing wrong, flower.

Her lips pull into a half smile, and she says, I missed you.

Miss isn’t a big enough word to describe the way I crave you.

A slight flush pinkens her cheeks, and she looks down as if she’s bashful for a moment. When she glances back up from under her lashes, the shields she’s using to keep me out crack just enough to allow me to brush against her thoughts. She’s still hurting, and I hate that I’m to blame for it.

I think about asking how she’s blocking me again but think better of it. Any defense she has is more than welcome, even if it protects her from me.

Will I be able to see you at the selection? Her query is tentative, as if she isn’t sure she should be asking.

No matter who I have to kill.

I swear I feel a spark of anticipation coming from her after my words, and the relief written on her face confirms it.

I’ve kept up my training and learned a few new things. She lifts a slim shoulder and turns her head, allowing the fur at her collar to brush her cheek. There isn’t much I wouldn’t give to slide my fingers over her skin in the same way. I’m so distracted by the simple movement, it takes me a moment to process her words.

A barb of possessiveness prompts me to ask, What new things? Who could teach her more about combat or something else that I already haven’t?

Briar rearranges her position, folding her legs in, then she makes sure her cloak is covering her completely before softly divulging, How to use my ability. Syrinx was right, I am like the other void, or I think I am. She seems to hesitate. If she wasn’t doing such a good job of blocking me, I would know what made her hesitate.

Tell me what you mean. What have you done? My question comes out almost accusatory, but that isn’t my intent. I’m just surprised. My contact hadn’t mentioned anything about Briar developing her ability.

I haven’t killed anyone , she defends as if I would care about anything other than the consequences she would have to face because of it.

Briar. Saying her name with intense expectation is all it takes for her to spill her secrets in more than one way. The walls around her mind crumble as her lips loosen, and she begins fervently rambling off details while flooding my mind with thoughts and images. A soft, intimate groan escapes my lips. It’s almost as good as being inside her and having her wrapped around me until she is the only thing I can feel.

I’ve been able to siphon other people’s powers when they are used against me. She goes into detail about the first time it happened and how she was too angry to feel weak anymore, which seemed to trigger her pulling the ice wielder’s magic and almost turning it against him. Images flash through my mind of her standing in a sand pit alone, scared, and pissed off. I relive how frightening it was for her as she tapped into her magic and it devoured the male’s before she even fully understood what was happening.

My mind sorts through all the feelings and emotions right along with her words. It would be easy to focus on her nervousness, which seems to be the most dominant of all her emotions, but I want to know what is making her so apprehensive about telling me this, and why she’s feeling that edge of excitement. Lastly, I want to explore the warmth simmering low in her belly that she’s actively trying to ignore. Picking up on her desire is almost enough to distract me from the revelation of her newfound ability.

Briar stops speaking abruptly, cutting off her words but not her stream of thoughts. She’s trying to decide if I will be happy about the new development or disturbed. She remembers what Syrinx said months ago about my kind of power being hard to resist, even for a mate. Briar is worried that after I learn that she is capable of draining me that I really will abandon her.

Her thoughts shutter as effectively as if she slammed a door in my face. It takes me a heartbeat to recover from the loss of her emotions.

I can only take what’s being used against me , she conveys solemnly. It isn’t a promise that she wouldn’t use my powers against me, it’s an explanation as to why she would. While her pulling away from me is wholly unwelcome, this is not. She has changed, hardening in a way I wasn’t sure she was capable of. I wish it hadn’t been necessary, but it proves just how strong she really is.

There is nothing you could take from me that wouldn’t be freely given, little flower. I gave you my blood and would happily give you my body and more to keep you safe.

Briar’s hands ball into tight little fists as she clutches the cloak over her lap. I wish I could feel her touch, her nails dragging over my skin.

I thought you might be scared of me now. There’s humorless mirth behind her words, as if admitting her thoughts seems foolish.

I didn’t know fear until they took you from me — not when I fell, not even when I held you in my arms while your heart tried to stop beating after you were bitten. Losing you is the only thing that frightens me, Briar.

Her pouty lips curl down slightly as her golden eyes well with unshed tears. A strong sense of guilt leaks through her defenses, so I don’t know what’s causing the emotion until she confesses, I shouldn’t have doubted you. I’m just… It’s just what… I’m used to… Her thoughts are stuttered, as if broken by sobs.

The urge to hold her, to comfort her, has me reaching for the mirror again. Her hand lifts without an ounce of hesitation this time to rest over mine. With that perceived connection, her shield crumbles, hopefully for good this time. Without asking for permission, I scan her thoughts, the ones on the surface and those lying deeper within. This feeling of contentment is addicting. If there was a way to safely keep the channel between us open at all times, then I would so I could be wrapped up in her.

Whoa , she whispers, and I swear I feel her breath near my ear. There isn’t one part of me that isn’t focused completely on her, and when she dropped whatever wall she was using to protect herself, she also opened herself up to my thoughts.

Briar lists to the side, and her eyes roll back in her head before she loses consciousness. For a single heartbeat, her mind is completely blank, then I have unfettered access to everything. Selfishly, I seek out her thoughts of me. I need to know that she will eventually forgive me.

I scan through her memories like leafing through a favorite book. Every image I see takes on a new context and opens my eyes to her perspective. Seeing myself through her lens is the closest I’ve felt to being a god since falling, and for the first time in my long existence, it has nothing to do with the amount of power I have. She worshiped me , not Ziveet.

The dread of not being forgiven slips away. Part of her has already absolved me, but that fear is replaced with a different sort of trepidation—I’m terrified of disappointing her again because I know I will damage her irrevocably if I do.

I follow our shared moments back to the instant she fell for me, before she even understood what was happening. Her heart is thundering so fast, I can’t imagine how she could breathe, let alone speak through the torrent. I’m crouched in front of her, contemplating why she is offering to share food with me when she is clearly starving.

Her reply is faint, because that isn’t what’s important to her, but I remember the moment vividly. She credited me for giving her the food in the first place and wanted to show her gratitude. I remember being enamored by her show of kindness and disappointed that she would risk herself for anyone, let alone me who needed nothing.

I watch myself lean forward and take a bite of the meat in her hand, and her reaction to it nearly steals my breath. She wanted me even then, imagining what my teeth would feel like on her skin, and the thought scared her because she’d never thought of such things before.

If I had known what she was thinking, I never would have been able to move away from her. I thought I frightened her and knew I would scare her if I let her see just how she was affecting me.

The missed opportunity to touch her when I had the chance is like a knife to my chest. I won’t make the same mistake again in the future.

Her thoughts cloud, and I’m shoved roughly from her mind, leaving me to feel slightly disoriented and bereft. Seeing her through the mirror is no longer good enough. I need to touch her, feel her breath catch when I look at her from across the room, and hear the way her heart speeds in her chest when I call her my flower.

Briar opens her eyes slowly before wincing and grabbing the sides of her head. “Ow,” she says, and it takes me a moment to realize I didn’t hear her in my head but read her lips. I’m disappointed by the complete loss of connection, but I know better than to try again. It’s clear I need to learn to erect my own walls while communicating this way or risk hurting her again.

I lean over and pick up the discarded tablet and wait for her to recover enough to be able to read.

Are you hurt?

She starts to shake her head but stops quickly when her lips curl in as if she might vomit.

Just a headache. What happened?

You stopped blocking me. I’m sorry I overwhelmed you. Can you teach me how you did it?

Her eyes widen as if my question surprises her.

Teach you what?

How you shielded your mind from me.

Briar starts to write then scribbles it out before starting over.

It’s called self-preservation. I don’t think I can teach you because I have no idea how I did it.

Unfortunately, I believe her, which means I’ll have to figure it out on my own before communicating with her like that again. I won’t risk damaging her mind, because I’m desperate to hear her voice and feel close to her.

It’s okay. I’m so proud of you, little flower. I’m amazed by your strength. Please stay strong for just a little longer. The selection is coming soon, but until then, I will do everything I can to find out who took you from me so I can make them regret it.

The quill falls from Briar’s hand while she’s reading my message. Her eyes dart over the stone tablet as if she needs to read it again to be sure. When she finally looks up, her eyes are glossy again, but this time there’s no sadness in her gaze, only acceptance. Her chin bobs up when she takes a deep breath and picks up the writing implement to respond.

Will I see you again before then? What if they don’t let me go to the selection?

Yes, but only like this until I know it’s safe for you. No more direct communication.

What if they don’t let me go?

I had no intention of ignoring her question the first time she asked, but I wasn’t sure how to answer other than to make a promise I will die to keep.

There are no what-ifs, Briar. You will be there, and so will I. Open the mirror again in three days. I’ll be waiting for you.

Okay, are you going now?

I have to, flower, or I will just sit here and stare at you. That doesn’t do anything to bring you back to me.

I’m sorry I doubted you.

Don’t be. I never should have allowed you to believe it. No matter what happens, I will come for you.