“Yes,” Trik answered.

“You’ve hurt people, good people?”

“Probably.” Another short, emotionless remark.

Cassie looked up then. “What do you mean probably?”

Trik saw something in her eyes that he didn’t want to see—hope.

“Yes Cassie, I’ve hurt good people. I won’t sugarcoat my past, my present, or my future. I’m a killer, an assassin. I kill who I’m ordered to kill. I’ve tortured innocents and at this point I don’t know if there is any good in me”

“Have you ever killed or hurt a child?” Her voice was a whisper as she spoke and he could hear in her voice that it would be a deal breaker.

“No,” Trik let out a deep breath, suddenly feeling very weary. “Children are sacred to our kind; light or dark, a child is never to be touched.”

“Have you ever r-r-,” Cassie’s hands were shaking as she tried to get the question that she knew she had to know the answer to.

“NO! Never,” his answer was quick and firm.

Cassie’s eyes closed and he saw a single tear slide down her cheek. He was up and by her side from one breath to the next.

“Why do you cry, A'maelamin ?”

Cassie looked up into his silver eyes as she let him pull her into his arms. She raised her hand and traced a single finger across his forehead and down his chiseled cheek. Silent tears tracked down her face as she spoke.

“You must feel so empty, so alone.”

Trik stared into the eyes of his Chosen and saw the compassion that filled her heart. He saw fear, and a hint of anger, but mostly he saw the pain she felt for him. For him.

“Why are you letting me touch you?” He whispered as he leaned closer to her and breathed in her scent. “How can you stand it when you know that these hands,” he ran the back of his hand across her wet cheek , “have taken more lives than you can fathom.”

“Stop,” a muffled sound as she pressed her face into his chest. “Why does this hurt?”

“What?” Trik asked as his brow drew together and his chest tightened.

“The thought of not being with you, the thought of telling you to leave and never come back. Why does it feel like my heart is being ripped from my chest and stomped on? What’s wrong with me Trik? I should be angry at you or at least disgusted. I should be hitting you, not embracing your touch!” Cassie knew her reaction to him was wrong. The man had just admitted to a life of murder, yet she couldn’t walk away. All she could think about was how lonely his existence must be. How cold the darkness must feel , as it consumes him from the inside, and she hurt for him. She ached for the pain his life must bring him.

“Here, holding you, I feel warm. You chase away the darkness, Cassie.” Trik had heard her thoughts again. She pulled back and looked up into his face. She saw too much.

“I can’t do this,” she told him as she stood up and pushed away from him.

“What do you mean?” Trik asked as he toostood.

She looked up and again could see the longing and deep need in him and it scared her.

“You need to go.”

“Cassie don’t ask me to leave.” Trik’s voice held the first hint of insecurity she had ever heard from him.

“I need some space, Trik. I need to think. Please, just give me some time.” Cassie pleaded. They stared at each other for a long moment and she almost thought he wasn’t going to relent. But then he turned and stepped through her window and was gone. Just like that, he was gone and the emptiness that now took his place drove her to her knees.

Cassie curled up in a ball on her side and wrapped herself in the pain of his absence. She felt like she was suffocating as she gasped for breath. She felt the hot tears slide down her cheeks and she bit her lip to keep from calling out his name. Why was she feeling this way? Cassie coughed as she tried to swallow around the sobs. What’s wrong with me? She thought as she tried desperately to regain control of her emotions, but control would not come.

She didn’t know how long she lay in the floor of her room consumed with her misery when suddenly she heard a door slam open and arms wrapped around her pulling her up into an embrace. It wasn’t Trik because the emptiness and dread were still there.

“Cassie,” the voice spoke quietly, but firmly.

“Cassie, look at me.”

Cassie obeyed and looked into purple eyes. Elora, her best friend hugged her tightly. Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out how her friend had known to come to her.

“Is she going to be alright?” Elora asked someone who was behind Cassie.

“Syndra?” Cassie recognized that voice as Elora’s mom, Lisa.

“I knew it wouldn’t be pretty, but wow, she looks bad. Once their souls are connected, then being separated is devastating,” said a third voice, one that Cassie didn’t recognize. “Well, even looking like this, she still looks better than his royal ass-hatness.”

“Did you just call the most deadly elf assassin ever, an ass-hat?” Lisa asked slowly.

“Yes, and I’ll say it again. I’m a light elf. We’re mortal enemies; I get to call him names,” the snarky voice quipped.

“Syndra, you worry me.” Lisa chuckled.

Out of sheer curiosity, Cassie found the strength to sit up and pull out of Elora’s hold. Strangely, as soon as Elora let her go, Cassie felt a little better. She looked up at Lisa who sat on the edge of her bed, her forehead traced with wrinkles as the worry she obviously felt shown through her eyes. Then she turned to the voice she hadn’t recognized. A tall woman, who looked nothing like her voice sounded, perched on Cassie’s windowsill. Her hair was cut in a short bob and dyed purple. She had large, green eyes and pale flawless skin. Her nose was short and cute and her lips full and red. She was slim, and every movement was graceful and deliberate. She wore tight jeans and a white, long sleeve, V-neck top that shaped to her curves.