The Last Storm (Rogue X Ara #1)

by J.D. Linton

Stretching my arms out, palms up, I offered myself to the storm. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky exploded with brilliant lightning in a heavy crack. I took another deep breath. When I released it, every emotion of the last day or two left with it. Inhaling, I accepted everything the storm offered me. Strength. Peace. Renewal.

You were promised to me, Ara. I will have you,”

Bitch

Over his shoulder, a slicer surged at him, seemingly unnoticed, and I brought the sword back overhead with both hands as Rogue froze, eyeing me. In one swift motion, I hurled it past him, hitting the slicer dead in its heart, flinging it back several feet. Rogue’s head whipped around as it bolted past him, narrowly missing his left wing. When he turned back to me, his lips parted in shock, his eyes wide.

“She is not human. Not entirely.”

Will he magically accept her now? -.-

“You should also know that even if you had returned, you most likely wouldn’t have married Finley,” I said without turning around. “Why is that?” she called out. “Because I burned his farm and house to the ground.” I heard her stop, and I continued forward, avoiding her reaction. Her anger. Her disgust. But when she burst out laughing, I whipped my head around in disbelief. “You—” She wheezed. “You burnt down his farm?” She laughed again, wiping tears from her eyes. “You know what? Good.” I gawked at her as she slid past me, patting my arm. “Serves him right for trying to force my hand.” I snapped my mouth closed, my eyes wide as she strolled along, reaching a hand down to run her fingers through the blooms. This woman…

Hahaha!

Just as Ara turned to face me, thousands of butterflies released from the trees and she froze. Her eyes followed as they fluttered about, blurring the forest in a brilliance of orange, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her. Her face lit with awe, and she gasped as a butterfly landed on her cheek, slowly opening and closing its wings. She brought her gaze to me, smiling faintly, then returned her eyes to the butterfly as it fluttered away. The sight sucked the breath from my chest, and I took a half step back, needing something. Space. Air. Anything. Thirty-nine years. Thirty-nine years of darkness and rage and hurt. I didn’t know what this was, but it wasn’t that.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes following their movement. “Yes, quite beautiful,” I whispered back, my eyes never leaving her.