The Prince And His Elites

by sd2905

All Maxon wanted from his Selection was to find his one. He was nearly there. He had his Elites. He had found someone. He was ready. But was it that ready? Look more into Maxon's amazing story after he selects his Elites. New bonds are made. New relations are forged. Everything is new. But what about him? This is Maxon's journey in finding his one out of his Elites.

23. Catastrophes

"I don't think that would be beneficial to us in any way."

"Nay. You're right. We wouldn't be benefited, but that what charity is for."

"Charity!" Mr. Quill, the master of budget, scoffed. "Please remind me, in case you're aware of our annual budgets, where are we standing."

Mr. Williams snorted. "This is going out of hand, Robert. Why in hell are we considering annual budgets for this charity. It is to raise medical funds as per Queen Amberly's project. You can't point—"

"I'm not, Arthur, and you know this. I personally like and support this new project of Queen Amberly, but we're short of the funds to start this project, let alone go for the charity."

"Arthur, Robert," The king said in a hard tone, commanding everyone's attention from this stupid spat which has been going since the start of this meeting, "stop arguing like children. If you can say your views without going in circles, please continue, else you're both free to wait outside while we do some actual work instead of these nonsense!"

Both of them sued their lips shut, the silence in the conference room suffocating.

"Mr. Quill," I looked at the old man, "do tell us what were trying to say."

"Your Highness, please forgive me, but the project of yours of providing necessities and food to the lower Castes had taken a toll on our annual budgets."

"But the records—"

"Yes. That. The lower Castes are chanting your name as a prayer for what you did for them." Mr. Needle, the public relation master informed the room, "and a few of the upper Castes are supporting your project. This project became an immediate success."

Mr. Cube, the finance master took on. "To keep the food source flowing, we had to give up a part of our budget for the project of yours. Include the expenses of the Selection—the Selected demanded many things for which a huge part was spent. The rebels attacked about a half-dozen times in the last three months, which was more than the number of attacks in the last year as a whole. The repair expenses hiked up."

"Due to all these, we are at a shortage of providing for this charity."

"You're telling me this now!" I seethed, glaring at all of them. "Why didn't any of you point out these things in the meeting two weeks ago?"

Father cleared his throat, demanding attention. "What done is done. We can't change that. Now, do any of you have any solution for this or...?"

Again silence fell in the room. Needle cleared his throat. "I was thinking of arranging a fundraiser. Celeste Newsome is a model, whose dresses were admired for their designs. We can use them for a fundraiser. Twos and Three's would come."

"Natalie Luca," said Mr. Cube, "is an excellent artist as well. She drew a few portraits showcasing the Royal life. We can also exhibit them."

America is also an amazing artist, as well as an excellent violist. I wanted to say but kept my mouth shut. No one here was ready to pull strings for her. I wouldn't complicate things for her now when she was so close. Also, I knew she would object it when she comes to know that it will only be limited to Twos and Threes.

"Okay." The king said. "We can consider these things, but only as a last resort. We haven't gone that low that we may need these girls' help. Take funds from the reserves for now, but your queen's project shouldn't stop. We'll delay it for a couple of months, but no more than that. If we can't raise the funds by then, we'll use these ideas. Now, tell me other things."

While they all discussed the other matters, my mind travelled to all those places where it shouldn't. To America.

Yesterday's fight still lingered, but also my resolve about her. The only thing to think about now was how to get her to accept me as well as choose me. No more I want to see her as my Elite, but as my the one, just as I see her. No more differences between us or distance. I want to cross that distance. But the question still remained: How?

Pursuing her to remain should be my main criteria, that's for sure. Then, maybe, I could take her to Marlee for a merry meet. It may help leaning things a little on my side. Shalom Singer claimed she loves me too but doesn't know this yet. If I could make her see...

But in case...

No. I have to stop thinking about that. If I keep thinking about escape scenarios, I might never succeed. Kriss is still a backup option, but I have to stop seeing her like this. I cannot hurt her more. She had started to fall in love with me. I cannot stop her but I can at least stop giving her hope that there might be feelings—such strong feelings—from my side.

When the meeting adjourned, Stavros, who hadn't accompanied father as he went out, sat next to me. The whole room appeared immense with just us two occupants. I sat with my head on the table, exhausted of every little thing. My very first individual project—a success as well a failure. The whole room seemed to be mocking me—a place where the success of every other was appraised witnessed my failure in something I was working very hard.

"My housekeeper, Mia, told me, and I quote, 'Thank you for your handsome project, Prince. My daughter has eaten a healthy meal in such a long time due to your vision.'"

"Does it matter, Stavros?" My voice was mumbled by the desk, but he could hear how dejected I felt.

I felt his hand in my hair, smoothing it down. Calming me. Something I needed, I realised.

Stavros cleared his throat. "It was your first individual project, Maxon. You worked so much on that, and it became an immediate success in no time. They were just trying to point out the stats. None of them wanted to diminish your spirits."

I scoffed. "It didn't feel like this. Didn't you see how the council was separated in two. It was a magic Father didn't say anything."

He chuckled. "I have known your father since he was a child, Maxon. Do you really think I don't know what he thinks?"

Turning my head sideways, I looked at him. He smiled, his eyes smoothing down as laughing lines around them made an appearance. With his smiling face, he really looked young. Not someone who was over sixty, but like my grandfather. Someone whose opinion mattered...

"He may never say it, but he is very proud of you and your project." As he realised I was about to snort, he gave me a glare that made me stop halfway. "Clarkson loves you, even if he fails at expressing it."

"But—"

"As of your project, do not forget these are the men who may appear like a dessert but carry the taste of bittergourd. They are trying to pressurise you so you may give them an opening and then they can have their way in manipulating you in choosing their favourite candidate." At my confused look, he gave me another of his smile. "This isn't the first Selection I'm witnessing, Maxon. I know the politics better."

That's when I realized why their suggestions revolved around the Elites. I groaned. "Can't I live without any of them trying to dance on my head?"

To my utter disbelief, he snorted. "I guess, and I'm sorry, but I have to say no."

I laughed lightly. "I guess you're right."

As a comfort, he patted my shoulder, squeezing it once. "Do not throw your temper at your father, my boy. He is going through many things even if he doesn't show them."

"I know." But sometimes it would be nice if he learned to share.

As if reading my mind, Stavros squeezed my shoulder once again. "Give him time, Maxon. He has learned to rule this country all by himself since he was younger than you. It's a major change for him as well."

I nodded, dutifully.

The general secretary of the king that he was, he clearly saw through my façade and ruffled my hair once. "Try to get some rest. You've been working nonstop since before Halloween. You deserve a rest as well."

"And you, too."

"Nah. Don't fret over me. I'm not going to take any rest. Not till my retirement. After I see your children that is."

Colour rise to my lake cheeks. "Stavros!"

His following laughter was everything warm.

.

.

.

Not knowing what to do or where to go, I walked by the passageway. Lunch became an uneventful event, just because I couldn't bear looking at Mom knowing I was the reason her project, on which she'd been working since a couple years, couldn't come in action. She'd said she was proud of my project, but how could she still believe I did the right thing when she comes to know this?

At the end of the passageway sunlight flitted on the gold couch, making it look like real gold. Sitting on it, I looked out of the palace that appeared to me as a cage now as well. A pretty cage where I could do anything, only if I get the permission. A big, pretty cage. For the time being, I thought about running away in the forest, get away from all these idiocy and live my hobby of photography. I could make a living of it. No burden of living upto the committee's words, no pressure of pleasing the king.

But looking away, I also knew what presides in the outer world. I've never visited it, but I knew now what happened out there. Deep inside, I knew I could do much better.

Why was I having these thoughts, was my first question. This wasn't the first time the committee had tried to belittle me. What was the first was the king trying to stand for me. Which meant I was doing something good.

So?

The main question: why was the committee trying to do this? Not just because of the Selection, sure?

Digging in deep...

What could be their motive?

Something that was far more deeper than trying to sway my decisions. Something they were already regretting. Something that they despised and wanted to stop. Something they wanted to stop as soon as possible.

Something that was attached to my project of providing necessities, why else would they want to point out that?

Something related to the lower Castes.

Almost the whole committee was Father's age or older. They dwelled in prejudices and never changed their beliefs. A thing I've been trying to change, step by step.

They were appraising me for the success of my project's success. But was it just that? After the interview with Gavril, the whole youth of Illéa was divided into two: one who wanted the Caste system to be removed, the other who didn't—the former overpowering the latter, the stats provided to me directly by Gavril.

What were the possibilities that the lower Castes have started to rebel for their rights—proper wages, not being beaten... As a matter of fact, I knew the committee members gave employment to lower castes but not enough wages. If what I was thinking was right, a gut feeling of mine said I was, then they all wanted me to take my project back so things can go back to the way they were.

Before I could think of any action, I wanted to be sure.

I stood up, a plan forming in my mind, when I saw an officer come my way. His black hair, broad shoulders, impressive height...I recognized him easily. I've seen my quite number of times to not do. This was the officer who was from America's state, the one who carried back America from the forest, who demanded to stay with her while I had to attend my work. The one who often found ways to be with America.

Stepping near to me, he bowed to his waist. "Your Highness, is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh, no, officer. I was merely trying to enjoy the view."

He nodded and took a step back. "Okay, then. I might ask for my leave."

"Officer Leger, right?" He nodded, turning around to face me. "Might I ask you why you're here on this floor? I thought you were specifically given the duty of the second floor."

"I still have, but I had the afternoon free for today, and another guard needed me to volunteer his duty due to some personal work." His emerald eyes bored into me, challenging me I realised, as he added, "His wife's water broke, he refused but on my insistence and word that I'll cover his hour for him, he finally caved in."

"Thar might be..."

"Officer Aaron German."

"Ah. The one who guards the Grand Hall." I remember him very well. He always stood by the gate during Capital Report, standing guard and often helped me when I needed air to concentrate. A Seven by birth, promoted to a Two by servicing as a guard and had been doing so since about four years.

Officer Leger nodded again, his sharp, pale green eyes assessing my reaction. I looked around, not knowing if I should ask him, when I saw that one of his golden button of his dress was missing. Something I'd seen somewhere else but couldn't recognise where. Someplace familiar.

"Can I ask which hospital they went in? I would like to send my regards."

"Actually, Your Highness, they aren't in any hospital." There was again, that challenge in his eyes as well as assessment, trying to weigh in my reaction. Whether he was smart or stupid, that was left to decide. "They couldn't afford it. With his wife's health weakening..."

"Oh." I had no idea what more to say. Whatever the committee said was true or not, the health of lower castes was an impending issue and work on it couldn't be delayed. The project have to be brought in immediate action, so we could gain results in the next year. To the officer standing in front of me I said, "I guess it's good that Officer German is there for his wife. Can you please ask him to come meet me as soon as he comes?"

He nodded again, but skeptical. His lips thinned into a line, his eyebrows rose a millimetre, his eyes gleaming with something I couldn't place, something that sparkled like hatred.

I could understand why. I knew he was a good friend of him by the way he was taking his shift, but I wanted to talk to Officer German personally. There couldn't be any audience to that. It was personal, and might turn humiliating for him if taken in a wrong way.

Nodding at the officer, I made my way to the room, but not before looking back once. This officer, Officer Leger, was setting up something on the couch, trying to do something? Maybe I needed to keep an eye on him.

Shaking my head, I went up and found the person whose help I needed.

Giving Justin a whole briefing about the ongoings in the meeting today, I told him to get any information and fetch any useful inside information. He nodded, instantly as work.

Justin always joked about how he could work with the FBI and I always laughed it out, but I knew how precise he was. He could be one of the best agent.

Alone in the room, I thought about considering Stavros's advice. Maybe I should take the rest of the day off. It wouldn't hurt. Anyway, the Elites were busy in their won project, and going to my Mom wasn't the slightest appealing option.

Sighing, I sat in my chair with my head on the desk. Going for a ride with Thunder. That ought to cheer me up.

Getting up, I made my way to my other childhood friend.

.

.

.

"Good boy." Thunder nuzzled against my hand rubbing at his neck. Rubbing his muzzle, I took comfort in how he leaned his head against my chest. "I know. I missed you, too, buddy." He blew a big breath that made me laugh lightly. "I'll try my best to have more time for you from now on."

Thunder had been my first pet. Others get to pet a dog or a cat, but being a prince, I got to take even this to an extreme. Ironically, Thunder was the foal of Father's horse, Bolt, whom I had raised since I was eleven. We practically grew up together, so it was no surprise that he understood me. In so many ways that everyone else failed.

Sighing, I took him back to his chamber. The stableboy came and attended him with hay. Patting Thunder once again, I made my way to the palace. But upon another thought decided that it was a good time for my evening stroll through the garden. My favourite companion was... unavailable, so better I do it alone.

Walking through the gates, I made my way to our bench and sat, face towards the setting sun. Today was a rare cloudy sky, the sun stroking the clouds with many vibrant hues. Something that was visible only rarely during autumn. It was around seven. Which meant I'd been in the forest with Thunder for around four hours.

How did it come to this that I have to find escapades from all? Wasn't Father enough that now I couldn't face Mom either—well, not now that I was still guilty for ruining her medical project. Weren't the Elites enough already that I felt the urge to even escape from them?

Was this how I was supposed to live from now? Always running, just because things were never ready to lean in my favour? How much more could I take before I snapped out of everything?

Could I ever get a break?

From everything? From something?

The ring, still occupying the space in my coat, seemed to mock me, digging hot holes through my coat, reminding me of its presence and the promise I made with it and myself. Even this bench was mocking me. I could even feel this very garden laughing at its sole occupant, the very air reminding of every moment spent in here with her.

My mind ceased to work. The idea of running away—even if for a day—proved more appealing by the second than the palace that loomed all shiny and promising behind me.

For the umpteenth time I wish I could live a normal life, where everything wasn't Royally complicated.

Rotation of the guards brought me back to the reality as well as the present, reminding me that none of my fictional ideas were of great help. They were just that: fictional ideas.

Stretching my legs, I stood up. Looking up once again at the clouds that blocked the stars, I sighed. Today, even the stars will be hiding from me. I sighed. These melancholy thoughts wouldn't give me any reprieve. It was time I took matters in my hand and tried to find the loophole in every matter that troubled me.

But today, I wanted to forget the reality. For once, I wanted to be selfish. Just like Officer German, I wanted to give up my duty for one day and think just about me.

And mine.

After an uneventful dinner, as I turned to the stairs that'll take me to the third floor, I caught sight of something white. The sound of heels clicking on the white, polished floor reverberating through the hall, swallowed by something...the carpet. Turning left to the East wing, I saw the source. None other than Celeste.

But seeing her, my brain turned to jelly, common-sense leaving me. Because walking towards me was Celeste, wearing a white evening gown that was designed for, well, nothing but beaches or night. The material was so non-opaque, it was barely concealing; so light it blew with the slightest breeze; so slutty that it was held together just by knotted straps at her shoulders, a slit starting at her right thigh, showing her gorgeous legs; the neckline dangerously low that it gave a good look at her cleavage, or should I say left nothing and yet everything at display.

She gave me a lopsided smile, her hand reaching out to smooth her hair that had been left to rest over her shoulder. Something fell down. She turned, giving a good display of her bare back, and looked down, then bent to retrieve something. Turning back, she made her way once again to me, her hands reaching to her to fasten the earing that had fallen down.

When she reached me, I tried to get my mind back to its working mode and failed spectacularly. Blinking slowly, I gave a once again lookover from her head to toe, taking in everything. Just like the first time I went for a date with her, I realised she was trouble. A dangerous, sweet, sexy trouble.

"Um...You..uh...um, hi." It came out all squeaky. Clearing my throat, I tried once again to form something coherent. "You look gorgeous, Celeste."

She laughed, her hand reaching out on my chest, over my pec. "Well, thank you, Your Magnanimous Highness."

I cleared my throat once again, trying to look elsewhere. And my eyes landed on the guards who were shamelessly ogling this wonderful, sultry distraction. Looking at them, I cleared my throat. Again. They both turned to me, sliding off their smirk too soon, giving me an apologetic smile.

"Shall we find some other place, my dear?"

Her hand travelled from my pec to my bicep, circling it. "We shall."

Together we walked to the secluded corner in the passageway but a maid made her appearance. This wasn't an appropriate place, for, well, anything. Turning around, I made my ways to the stairs, descending. The heels she'd wore were like skyscrapers in itself, making me think I'd have to carry her, but it never came to that. She descended as gracefully as ever, with the might of a princess.

Turning to the passageway that was seldom used, I stopped and turned to her.

She waited expectantly. When I remained silent, she fluttered her eyelashes at me. "What are we doing here?" Her voice was all throaty. My mind ceased working altogether. An escapade, just like I wished for one. The way she smirked told me she had some ideas of her own.

Something that I would have succumbed to if I were any lesser man.

Resisting the urge to ogle her again—I was just a man after all—I gave her a knowing look and waved a hand as if to say This...

"Ah. This. Well, I got a call today via Silvia. It was my agent, saying Relaxia wanted to do a shoot with me, They are the brand any model would die working for. Not wanting to pass on the offer, I asked Silvia if she could help me get a special allowance to do it through the palace itself. She told me she'll see what she could do. Mr. Needle caught the news and granted me the permission. I just received this dress for today's photoshoot."

"This photoshoot that you mentioned," stupid throat getting all dried up. "how are you posing?"

"Silvia approached Gavril and asked for assistance. He sent me his one of the best photographer. I just finished today's photoshoot and was walking around for air. They are busy arranging the room back to normal from their slightly appropriate setup."

"Whoa." I had no idea for what I said that. For the whole thing, her dress or the setup. Clearly my mind wasn't working properly to not give me any alarm bells.

She moved her fingers to my neck, collecting the sweat that'd gathered there. "Where had you been, Maxon?"

"No place exciting."

She laughed lightly, her hair blowing in my face with the breeze coming in through the window not faraway. Her fingers, resting on my shoulder, slid down to my tie and loosened it a little bit. "For air." She murmured with a sexy smile.

My stupid brain, which was left behind in the garden I guessed, wasn't there to stop my hand from lifting it up and brushing her hair back, tucking it around her ear.

She gave me a wink and a smile anyone could fall for.

But I knew better. If my brain was paying any attention, it would've alerted me, saying she is after the crown. She is trying to manipulate you to her room or mine. Don't give her the satisfaction of falling in her trap. But since it wasn't here murmuring these words, when she leaned into me, I leaned in as well until our lips touched and started moving against each others.

Wasn't this what I was yearning for, just for a few moments? A chance to forget everything and behave just like a normal man. As it was, it appeared my wish was granted. Shutting my brain—which hadn't made any appearance through any remark—out, I found myself walking back till my back leaned against the wall and she leaned against me. My hands found her waist, her hands landing on my shoulders.

This was an inappropriate behaviour on my side, but for a few minutes I didn't want to care about appropriate or not. For a few moments I wanted to leave behind the helplessness I had and bask myself in something that wasn't palpable.

Fortunately for me, Celeste was all up for that.

"Anyone could see us." One of us mumbled. I didn't think it was me.

I don't remember my reply, but it was something like "Let them. You look gorgeous as it is." Stupid absence of brain.

In a few minutes, our lips and hands were everywhere. On her neck, her bare back, her arms; just like hers were in my hair, nails digging in my skull or back, on my chest, her lips at my ear whispering some sweet nothings that I didn't care go actually listen. I just hummed whenever she said anything and in return she giggled.

As she giggled once again in my ear, both of us slightly breathless, I admitted, "I've never really kissed anyone quite like this." Why was I admitting such things to her? I blamed it, again, to my absence created of brain.

"But you do it so well!"

As if she wanted to show me just how good, her lips travelled trailed my ear to jaw and finally to my neck. Tilting my head, I once again succumbed to these alien things which I already ready to forget. Her lips returned to mine and I sighed. What time had it been already? Ten minutes? Fifteen? How much longer should I let it go?

As I made my mind that it was enough of a rendezvous for today and opened my eyes to tell her just that, my eyes met blue ones—ones that were vivid with fury, the colour no longer light as the sky but deep and angry as the ocean.

America.

Standing in front of me, still as a rock, her face in a shock, her fingers covering her mouth, was standing my dream turned into a nightmare. As our gazes locked, I realised how much Celeste was draped over me—one hand in my hair, one on my chest, lips at my neck, a leg circling my thigh and my hands enveloping her.

America, still as a statue, cracked, shaking her head, her hand covering her mouth dissolving the pained sound that made its way through her throat. Her eyes never leaved mine as she took a step back, then another. I was only able to move my limbs through my haze when she'd finally disappeared.

Shit!!!

Putting my hands on Celeste's arm, I moved her at an arm's distance.

"Something wrong, honey?"

"I have to go."

Something like disappointment and panic flickered in her brown eyes. "What? No, wait. I have a wonderful evening planned for us. There's so much more I want to show you."

It was desperation leaking out of her mouth.

"Show me?" Surely she didn't mean what I was thinking she meant.

"Yes. In my room." She mumbled as she stepped closer, her nose brushing my cheek. Trying to entice me once again. But it was a futile attempt. My mind was running at a high speed, looking for ways of control damage.

It was all my fault. I shouldn't have given Celeste this window when I knew better. Now, refusing her was proving to be difficult. How to deflect her without hurting her?

Not finding any other way, I opted for honest. "I apologize. My behaviour tonight wasn't appropriate, and I led you on. You are a very beautiful girl." I smiled, though I found no humour in anything. "No doubt you're aware. Still, I shouldn't have...I'm sorry. Goodnight."

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, never looking back at her dejected face, climbing stairs two at a time and raced through the passageway to her room. My mind yelled what if she isn't here, but my heart held hope. If she isn't here, I'll turn the palace upside down until I find her. Without knocking, my heart in my throat, I stepped in her room, almost sighing with relief that I found her. The relief was short-lived as rampage took over, holding me tightly in its clutches.

I paced the space of her room, trying to reign my anger in else I lose it.

She was the first to break this raging silence.

"You lied to me."

Of all the accusations she could throw at me, she chose the one I'd never done, one I'd promised her I would never do.

Shaking my head like a crazed, angry animal, I barked, "What? When?"

"When haven't you been?" Her eyes were livid as they bored into mine, her whole face red as she tried to control her anger and failed. "How could the same person who talked about proposing to me want to be caught dead in a hallway with someone like her?"

"What I do with her has absolutely nothing to do with how I feel about you." I was panicking, I realised. Not just angry at everyone and everything, it was dread panic. My palms were clammy and my throat all dried up.

"You're joking, right?" I wish it was. "Or because you're the next king, I suppose it's acceptable for you to have half-naked girls draped across you whenever you like?"

I flinched, the remark so close to long, deep buried wounds. "No. That's not what I think at all." Surely she did know that. She had to.

Her eyes raised to the ceiling. "Why Her?" Her voice was all wrong. Or was it my ears? "Why, of anyone on the planet, would you want her?"

Because. Just because.

I used her the way she was using me. It wasn't an explanation, but the best explanation I could give nonetheless.

Not knowing what and how to say, I shook my head, looking around the room in fruitless hope I may find some answer. Something. Anything that calmed the whole situation.

"Maxon, she's an actress, a fake." Her eyes found mine. "You have to be able to see that under all that makeup, and the push-up bra is nothing but a girl who wants to manipulate you to get what she wants."

Thanks for reminding me just what I knew. I laughed humourlessly. "Actually, I do." More than she ever did.

"Then why—" Something flashed on her face. It was there for a second before it was gone.

And I knew. Just like I always knew her, attuned to her, I knew what was about to happen. It was all evident in the hardening of her eyes. In the cruel curve of her lips. In the tears that collected in her eyes but refused to fall down. In the way her fingers were clenched in a tight fist, shaking.

I just knew.

Still, when she admitted it, when she said, "You wanted a decision, and here it is: I am done with this. I'm done with the Selection, I'm done with all the lies, and I am especially done with you." My heart broke all over again. Crumbled into non-existent pieces. I couldn't breathe. "God, I can't believe how stupid I was."

Was the room swaying?

Taking in her, concentrating only on her, I refused to have her go. She couldn't. She wouldn't. I took a step towards her, did that until I was stepping just a hand's breadth away from her. "You're not done, America." Not giving into panic, I locked my eyes with hers. "You're done when I say you are. You're upset right now, but you aren't done."

Neither was I.

We both would be done only when we both ended up together. I wouldn't consider any other option. None. My mind refused to think it. My heart...how could it still beat if I felt if breaking?

She seethed, pulling her hair. "What is wrong with you? Are you delusional? What makes you think that I will ever be okay with what I just saw? I hate that girl. And you were kissing her. I want nothing to do with you."

"Good God, woman, you never let me get a word in edgewise!"

"What could you possibly say that could explain that away? Just send me home. I don't want to be here anymore."

Panic settled in. Dreadful panic that clenched my heart so tightly I could barely breathe.

"No." Never. Not even in ten years or hundred.

Both of us froze. None of us moved. Then, "Maxon Schreave, you are nothing but a child who has his hands on a toy that he doesn't want but can't stand for someone else to have."

"I understand that you're angry, but—"

Her delicate hand tried to shove me. She failed. "I'm beyond angry!"

"America, do not call me a child. And do not push me."

She did just what I asked her not to. She pushed me again. Hard. On my chest. "What are you going to do about it?"

I'll show her just what I would do. Stepping in her personal space, I grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back with one of my mine, keeping it there. I was angry. At everything. Because of everything. And this woman—this crazy woman whom I loved with all of my heart—was testing my limits.

She struggled, which resulted in her coming flushed with me, her chest completely against me. If it weren't for how livid her eyes were, how she was trying to untangle herself just so she could hurt me, it would've been something romantic. Something that should have always been there instead of everything that had transpired between us.

Looking at America then, trying to struggle, I had an epiphany then and there itself. She is going to be the death of me. Something I'd realised a long time ago but never accepted it. But now...I knew it was the truth.

Even now when we were supposed to be angry, raging against each other, all I could feel was how close she is. Could she, too, feel the electricity humming between us? I'd missed being this close to her, something that hadn't happened since Halloween. Something I wanted to happen again.

We both looked at each other, trying to search something. I don't know what she found in me, but all I could see in her was raw passion. She still felt something for me, something palpable, if the parting of her lips was any indication.

She stepped back, shaking her head, and my hand fell away. Just like everything that had been slipping out of my hand, she slipped out.

I could no longer feel my legs. My hands started shaking that I glued them to my side.

Don't. Don't. Don't.

What was I begging her for? My mind was all jelly again, refusing to understand anything.

She asked me something.

What was she saying? Was she trying to reason with me. I tried to concentrate, I really did, but all I could hear was the loud thumping of my heart.

I shook my head, trying to clear my head.

Her face broke. Her hands were fumbling. She was trying to do something. Something hit me on my chest. Something fell down. I looked down at that something. It was blue. A gift. It was hers. She'd accepted it. Why was she returning it? My head was being all funny. The room had really started to sway. Or were those my legs?

With shaking fingers I lifted what I had brought just for her.

It was the bracelet.

My eyes glued to that particular piece, everything else blurring out. I needed air. I needed to think. I needed...I needed...

I don't know when or how, but I found myself in my room, standing against the door.

What happened?

As if answering my silent question, the bracelet started burning my hand. It wasn't enough. The ring—her ring—started burning as well. It was too much. I couldn't think straight.

Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out.

It was of no use. I couldn't control myself.

Utter terror seized my heart. My mind refused to work.

I just need to sleep. It will all go away.

No matter what I did, sleep evaded me.