The Forsaken Hero

"I’m not hurt anymore. It’s okay," I insisted.

I couldn’t bring myself actually to glare at the stern remnant, but neither could I stand by while he–

Luke laid a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face him. His hand was strong and calloused, not letting me resist. Our eyes met, and chills raced down my spine.

For a split second, every instinct told me to struggle and run from his strength. Even if he was being gentle, this was a reminder I was completely powerless in his grip. If he wanted, I would be as helpless as I was against Alex or any of the men who enjoyed hurting me.

"Xiviyah, it’s not okay," he whispered, "Even if you’re fine now, what if you weren’t? Pain doesn’t go away just because the wound heals. I don’t want you to get hurt again."

"But you came back. I could never ask for more."

He smiled sadly, letting his hands slip from my shoulders. I took a sharp, relieved breath as the pressure vanished. I hadn’t breathed since he took hold of me.

"You were right, Lord Ernyst," he said, gazing over my head at the imposing remnant. "Even though my strength and rate of growth is sufficient to topple the church, it isn’t enough. Forgive my arrogance and please, instruct me."

I stumbled back, nearly bumping into R’lissea. She caught me with a gentle hand on my back, letting it linger even after I straightened.

"Not enough?" I whispered. If he could already challenge the gods, what else could he possibly want more power for?

"So, you can admit your folly. That puts you a step above the gods’ chosen," Ernyst said.