The Rose Society (The Young Elites #2)

But I can’t think straight anymore. My energy lurches, and my passion sparks wildly out of control, fed by the strength of our connection. I had not expected this. All I know is that the tether is hungry to join its two ends together, and that it pulls us tighter and tighter together, the energy growing more and more powerful the closer we get. Violetta’s warning echoes in the back of my mind.

“I don’t know,” I whisper back. I put one hand against his face. He doesn’t pull away. A small sound comes from his throat, and before I can do anything else, he puts a hand against the back of my neck and pulls me forward. He kisses me.

I cannot breathe. It is a frightening, savage energy—my power lashes out at Enzo, pulling him forward and trying to overpower him. For a while, it does. I can feel the threads of my energy whipping around his, washing over them and swallowing them whole. They act as if I were not even here. Like I have no control.

I can feel his fire coursing through me, wrapping around my heart, wanting more. This is nothing like the gentle kiss I’d shared with Magiano. I cannot let go—I’m not sure I want to. My energy darts through our tether, coiling itself around his heart and whispering for him to come closer. I realize that I am the one coaxing him on. Commanding him.

Then, suddenly, something pushes back against my power. It pushes hard.

The sound in Enzo’s throat turns into something dark, a rumble, a growl that doesn’t sound human. Without warning, he shoves me back against the wall, pinning me there with his weight. I gasp. His energy blankets me. This shouldn’t be possible. An illusion of mine flings out from us and spirals around the room, erasing the dilapidated barn and replacing it with a night forest covered in snow, illuminated by the glow of the moons. The ground beneath us is soft with bright green moss. The wall behind me turns into the trunk of an enormous, twisted tree. And Enzo … when I get a glimpse of his eyes, I see that they have gone completely black, the darkness filling every corner. I choke out a gasp of horror. I realize vaguely that the string at the top of my tunic has come undone, exposing my skin and the curve of my shoulder. He arches against me as I pull him toward me.

No. My energy suddenly explodes against him, forcing his power back.

His lips leave mine. He forces himself away, pushing back even as our joint energy protests. The darkness leaves his eyes, returning them to normal, and the hunger that had been on his face moments earlier dissipates, leaving confusion. We stare at each other, trying to figure out what just happened. The tether between us still protests, even now, each of our Elite powers whispering and clawing for the other.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Enzo whispers, taking a step back.

It feels horribly wrong, like a slick of oil coating the inside of my stomach. But with the nauseating feeling had come that unimaginable heat. When I look at Enzo’s face, I can tell that he desires it too, even as it unsettles him. He tightens his jaw and turns away from me. When he looks back at me again, his face has settled into something cold, distant, and calculating. The Reaper’s face.

Is it him? I try to force down a shudder of frustration. I’d thought that the darkness pooling in his eyes was something that happened only in the arena, while he was being revived. But here it is again, turning him into something inhuman in the moment that it invades his eyes, in the moment when we touch. There is something very wrong.

The tether between us pulses, disturbed, and I tremble, remembering the way his power had nearly overwhelmed mine, pushing me down and down until I would have been just a tight ball of energy, trapped inside myself. What had truly happened? According to Gemma, whoever Enzo is tied to should be able to control him. But I had not felt in control in that moment. I’d felt threatened, felt him trying to overpower me.

That should not be right. But Enzo is an Elite, reborn—he is something that has never existed before. Perhaps Maeve did not predict the extent of Enzo’s powers as well as she should. I shiver, trying to understand what this means.

You are his link to the living world. You can control him. Try it.

I reach out through the link now, searching for him. My threads seek out his heart as if they have a mind of their own.

Enzo shudders and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, blackness pools into the whites of his eyes. I try to breathe—but I realize that when I hold his heart in my hands like this, I cannot. It’s as if the action of controlling an Elite requires every last bit of my energy. An irrational boldness takes hold of me.

“Paint a wall of fire behind me, Enzo,” I whisper, taking a step toward him. My gaze stays locked on the blackness in his eyes.