Blood of Desiderium (The Divide Book 1)

by Ali Stuebbe

des· i· de· ri· um : an ardent desire or longing especially : a feeling of loss or grief for something lost

you engraved our love on your heart, a permanent declaration, for me.

“No matter in this world, or the one beyond it, I promise we will be together again. My heart will always be with you. I love you, my sweet child.”

The storm is racing towards us without warning. I briefly wonder if that’s a sign I’m close. If I’m angering the Gods.

I bend to swoop the sword off the ground, admiring the sharpness of the blade glinting in the light. The hilt holds promises in my hands, ones that end with my death.

It’s better to spark the smallest ember than to curse the darkness.

I make my way to my bed. I lift the feathered pillow to grab my worn paperback. I trail my fingers over the cover before fanning the pages in front of my face because I love the smell of them, the coarse caress of it against my fingertips, a cherished world which could never be mine. A world where I could be free, maybe even loved.

But what would love even feel like?

I wonder how it would be to feel a male’s touch be pleasant instead of brutal.

To be accepted instead of tossed aside with disgust at my body. Someone who will see my scars as a sign of strength rather than a deformity of my being.

the girl in the book is lonely in a way I can relate to, and I feel like I’m visiting an old friend every time I read it.

My heart suddenly feels heavy, and tears threaten to spill at the thought of never truly having the kind of love that steals your breath. Consumes your soul and burrows itself in your bones.

He deserves someone whose soul is not fractured. Unlike mine. I feel only fragments of myself exist, as I fracture further with each loss.

I was devouring Aiden’s mouth as if the air was stolen from my lungs and his lips were oxygen.

Her every curve is visible in that tight outfit and molds right into me. A body made of sin. Dressed in all black, looking like a cloak of shadows.

But I refuse to let someone else destroy me. If I’m going to drown, then I’ll do it on my own by drowning in my own self-made Hell.

The pure bliss of the birds soaring around only to dive down and swing back up has my heart clenching for a feeling I will never experience. The carefree lightness in life that has no weight to it, unlike my heavy heart made of stone. Dragging me down until I’m forced to sink into my misery.

It was the kind of hope that bloomed like a spring flower, only for the petals to fall and shrivel into nothing. Something that could have been beautiful, but ultimately became withered from rejection and lack of love.

The self-pity is hard to swallow, but I ram it down my throat, refusing to let him take any more from me.

He can’t save me from something that is me.

I open the doors, stepping into the other world that is the library. Rows of books stretch far and wide, towering high above me. The heavenly aroma welcomes me, transporting me into a world of pure ecstasy.

It’s my favorite one. The title is scrawled in a dull white along the spine: A War of Hearts. When I open the book, the words consume me, pulling me into a heartwarming story of love won and love lost. A battle of wills with the character’s beating heart. Deciding if she should guard it or let it bleed.

The book falls from my hands in his rush to consume me. He seems to always let my books get in harm’s way, neglecting the care they deserve.

Needy. So fucking needy.

Now, the lines between us are blurring, becoming fragile. And if I’m not careful, it will shatter.

And with that, he takes his leave. Still, no actual conversation transpired between us. He just chooses to leave me alone, aching, and confused.

It’s infuriating that this prince—who is made from sin—refuses to acknowledge me.

If this is some sort of game he’s playing, I’ll play. I’m already in the midst of many; what difference does it matter if I add another?

“He’s a cold-hearted sociopath who is unwelcoming with his ‘I’ve got better things to do’ look. And how attractive he is, is even more infuriating. He looks like he was sculpted from the Gods’ powerful hands, sent here solely to wreak havoc on a female’s senses.”

“He’s the Devil himself, all wrapped up in sin and, like you said, has the body of a God. It’s easy to see why so many females fall on their knees for him, begging to give him pleasure. I bet he knows exactly how to work a girl’s body to the point of screaming without control.”

“There are so many unknowns in life that could end us in an instant. Finding someone to fill the void of loneliness helps pass time.

Whether he chooses to be alone or not, the cobwebs on his heart must be suffocating.

That’s what seems to happen to those who are close to me: they die or become tainted.

I can’t seem to keep up with his waves of emotions, as I’m left stranded at sea again, having to navigate through unpredictable weather. At some point, I’m going to give up and let myself drift away and leave him to suffer in his own whirlpool.

“He won’t be able to ignore you when he sees you. You’re like a walking dream of promises in the night.”

Most likely he’s expecting me to grovel at his feet, hanging onto his every word, like I’m sure most girls do. I don’t blame them—he is strikingly handsome. But how can they get past his arrogance? It’s revolting to see yet another male believe he can take what he wants.

I must seem like a siren, with a look of sweetness that comes with devious intent. I won’t bow down to his commanding presence, no matter how sharply his eyes slice into me. I’ve fought worse monsters than him, but what he doesn’t know is that I might be the darkest monster of all.

A slight tilt of his lip makes me think he found that amusing, but I doubt that. I’m sure this male finds nothing funny, let alone something I said.

A mate is fate’s way of offering a love that’s pure, and one that can overcome anything. It’s the stars guiding you through the darkest of times. The embrace of magical bliss and promises of dreams coming true.

The challenge brewing between us is enough to keep Hell’s fire blazing for all eternity.

I feel drawn like a moth to a flame. Skirting on the edge of danger and temptation, with a hint of curiosity, becomes overwhelming

the times we shared shined a light that helped guide me out of the darkest corners of my mind.

She’s all lithe and quick-thinking, dressed in promises of your own demise. Like a little assassin wrapped in her own brand of crazy, who would slice someone’s throat in a heartbeat and bleed them out to dry.

When her mouth falls open slightly, I’m tempted to taste what's not mine.

she’s not so willing to submit. I might have to change that.

My eyes widen at the use of my first name. Hearing it fall from his lips is like the first sip of sweet red wine as it explodes on your tongue.

His head twitches to the side as if he’s battling for control, slowly coming unhinged right before my eyes. He looks like a beast that wants to devour me. Having already cornered his prey, the feverish want takes over all reasoning.

The heat building around us is threatening to set fire, and I’d willingly burn at this moment. Let him consume me and turn me to ash.

Maybe I was never meant to be saved, but rather, to be someone’s savior.