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Erik~~

Rydersin's body is taut against mine, the bones of her hips digging into my skin, and her chest is smashed against my own. Though I can't see her, I know her lips are only inches from mine, both of us breathing hard. My back digs into shelves full of wine and champagne glasses I was only able to see from the flash of light caused when we slipped inside the closet. Rydersin tightens her hands into my shirt as if she's trying to keep herself in place.

I turn my head to the side, stare into the darkness, and channel my forlorn cousin Enzo, who half the time thinks life is a movie—you're probably wondering how I got here.

I on the other hand only act like it is.

            This is a story that starts with a baby crying, his tufts of blond hair utterly adorable; however, I'll save the baby pictures for when there's tea and instead I'll fast forward a few years, bypassing any clowns, until there—in the middle of the gym—the most angelic child—really he should have received a reward for how well behaved he could appear to be—trained with his cousins to hit a target with a bullet. One of his cousins with black hair complained that archery was easier and received a slap to the back of his head from their cousin with red hair. Which cousin with black hair? He had far too many. So take your pick. They all liked to complain.

            But maybe that particular memory isn't important. The ones that are are the ones I don't want to relive.

            So, I'll jump ahead to a very recent one. One where Rydersin sat in the middle between me and Karn in the back of a car, while Meilin drove and Xioazhi was in the passenger seat.

            "You really don't have to come, Erik." Rydersin glanced out the window on Karn's side at the lake we passed. Her fingers tightened in the folds of her dress.

            "I never say no to revenge." I scrolled through the tablet she had handed me, reading over info on each of Acquaellia's Order members. "It's a form of extreme entertainment for me."

            Despite my glib attitude, the moment Rydersin's family's home appeared on the horizon, dread curled in my stomach. What if this time the Preeminence was prepared and took us all by force? What would he do to Rydersin's Veil? Veil of Acquaellia who turned their back on the Preeminence.

            The sun had already long since set, and lights shown from the windows of the mansion, the only lights for miles, giving the stars reign to sparkle across space as if a jar of silver glitter had been spilled.

Rydersin's hand brushed against me—I think merely on accident—and I have to stop my hand from taking hers. What would her father do to her?

Meilin pulled right to the front and center of the driveway and parked. As the five of us approached the door, attendants spilled out of it, their expressions frazzled. Rydersin thought it'd be best not to give the exact time and date of her arrival.

We followed her through her childhood home as she headed for her father, her dress billowing around her legs. I don't know how she knew where he was, or who passed that information onto her, but it was if she was being guided by a beacon. There was no hesitation in her steps.

And once it became clear her destination was a door ahead of us, Karn went before her and pushed it open so she could glide right through and straight into the lounge where the Order and her father were gathered.

I resisted the urge to shrink back from the room, from the Preeminence, from the fear of what he might do to all of us.

That was when I saw who else was present, and I—I forgot why we were here. Percy, Colton, Vienna, Iris, and Jonas. They all stared at me, their features tensed as if ready for a fight. What had we walked in on?

            "Good evening." Rydersin passed by her father and made herself a drink at a bar cart stationed near him. "I didn't know you already had so many guests, Father."

            The Preeminence's body tightened, and he sent a glare my way before turning to his daughter. "Rydersin, we weren't expecting you tonight."

            She garnished her drink with a thin green leaf. "After our last meeting I just couldn't wait for our next."

            I dragged my gaze from them to my family. None of them now seemed to know who to look at.

            My eyes snagged on Iris's arm, on a new mark but this one was not of dates and death but of stars and moons. As I locked eyes with Jonas, the truth came crashing down on me. They were no longer engaged.

            "You got married," the words slipped out, "while I was being tortured?"

            The room fell silent. Maybe that was not the right thing to say.

            Jonas stood, taking a slow, deliberate step toward me. "By whom exactly were you tortured?"

            I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to pause the story for a moment to go back—

Rydersin shifts against me, pressing me harder into the shelf. It's really difficult to reflect on your life in great detail when someone is shoved against you.

In the dark.

And you've only recently realized you're falling in love with them.

Focus, Erik.

Where even was I? Right, interrupting myself.

What I wanted to say was that I've never been good at flowery speech or keeping my mouth shut when I should. For me, saying the wrong thing comes just about as naturally as breathing. Over the years, I've been able to brush this particular flaw off on Eli—making sure to emphasize when he says something out of line until my family couldn't see my blunders as clearly as they did his. And if I'm being honest, I was only able to point out his transgressions by saying the wrong thing myself.

Let me set the scene. A ball. The Society's old Estate. I'm merely fifteen and have snuck a glass of champagne. There are hundreds of people present, and Eli says something unsavory about a woman. I repeat his words back to him loud enough for said lady to hear.

Or I'm eleven, and Eli and I have shown up to our lessons early. I give the teacher the wrong answer, and when he calls me out on it, I retort with a comment about his mustache. Just as the rest of the small class comprised of my cousins arrives, Eli also gets a question incorrect and says how the teacher's mustache doesn't fit his face.

My cousins only heard one of us.

But letting out that I'd been tortured really was an unfortunate blunder because who else on this planet would have tortured me but the Preeminence of Acquaellia? And to be clear I don't mean the future Preeminence of Acquaellia because if it's Rydersin doing the torturing, I don't think I'd mind so much.

But after my one unfortunate comment, I managed to keep my lips sealed as Jonas approached me, only for my eyes to drift to Rydersin's father.

A muscle in Jonas's jaw ticked, and he angled himself toward his counterpart. "You dared lay a hand on a member of my family?" I had to admit that I actually liked Jonas defending me. A lot. I was completely ready for him to rain down his wrath on Rydersin's father.

But I didn't have the chance to see it because Rydersin grabbed hold of my hand and pulled me from the room as it dissolved into shouts behind us.

A few moments later we found ourselves in our current situation—her pressed against me: me pressed against her.

My hands now rest at her lower back; my thumbs have pushed into her without me having realized it, and now I can't stop from focusing on them. I move my thumbs in circles, the fabric of her dress all that separates them from her skin.

"Erik?" My name on her tongue is a sweet cadence.

I run my hands up the sides of her, causing her breath to hitch. I feel each dip, each curve and rib. I slide my hands to her back and pull her tighter against me, her chest pressing into me. Her hands grab hold of my arms sharply, but she doesn't push me away.

From outside the door, the shouting continues, but I don't know who it's coming from. It could be Rydersin's father's own Order yelling at him.

And I don't really care right now . . .

Rydersin places her hand to my cheek, gentler now. I wish I could see her, see how she's looking at me. Do her eyes burn as much as my body does?

Her hand tightens around the back of my head. "Erik, kiss me." It's a command, and I bow to my lady's request.

I press a hand against the side of her face, my fingers brushing against her braids, and I lean down until I cover her mouth with my own. Her hand at the back of my head tangles in my hair, and a groan slips past my lips.

My other hand presses into her back, only to push her harder against me as I bite down on her lower lip. I am nothing but a disgraced former Tresais, and this woman who could very well one day be Preeminence somehow deems me worthy enough to be in her presence, to want to be close to me.

To want me.

I soften the kiss, taking her face in both my hands. "Rydersin," I murmur before I lean back only to slam my shoulders into the shelf behind me. For an instant I hear only the sounds of the glasses wobbling.

In the next, they crash.

I push Rydersin back as far as I can and cover her body with my own, shielding her, I hope, from any shattered pieces of glass.

To my surprise, she kisses me, laughing, and she wraps her arms around my neck, despite the glass that's probably embedded itself into my collar.

"Rydersin?" I ask but still kiss her through her laughs. My own begins building in my chest. "I—"

The door swings open, light rushing in and shining right on the two of us tangled with each other.

So I don't think Erik managed to break the fourth wall, but if Enzo had a POV, he'd be breaking it all over the place--just like those glasses in the closet.