Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Nadia Scrieva

  With a carefree shrug, Asher smiled back. “I guess not. Might as well give it a shot, then.”

  Amara felt a twinge of worry due to Asher’s initial reticence. He usually dove into everything headfirst. She stepped back and watched in wonder as the men began to chant in Phoenician. She realized just how much Pax had shielded her from some of the more intricate and grueling tasks of magick. As she observed Asher in his element, she found herself mesmerized by the way the twisting gales of blue prana lifted his dark hair. His dark eyes were focused and severe.

  Swept up in the process of performing the incantation, Asher seemed truly capable and at ease. Amara was stunned by this, for this was a man who could not figure out how to program an alarm clock to wake him up at 10 AM. Then, once the alarm did start ringing, he could never figure out how to hit the snooze button without crushing the alarm clock in the process. Yet here he was, engaging in something so complicated and far beyond her that she almost didn’t recognize him.

  She stood and watched for several minutes until she began to grow restless. She had not realized that it would take quite so long to open the interplanetary portal. She eventually moved to a seated position and began to yawn as she watched her brother and her ex-boyfriend chanting for what felt like an eternity. She imagined that it felt different to be on the inside of performing the incantation, feeling the mounting energy created by each word. However, on the outside she was growing bored. She felt like a cheerleader waiting on the sidelines for the football players to achieve their triumph.

  Amara eventually sunk down on the grass to rest for a moment, and somehow, that moment turned into several hours. The Phoenician chanting proved an excellent lullaby, and Amara found herself blissfully napping in the fresh grass. She continued sleeping until she was awoken by screams of agony. Lifting herself up rapidly, Amara’s eyes widened when she saw that there was a giant, gaping hole in Asher’s chest.

  She could see directly through his body to the forest on the other side of Burnson Grove. Amara pulled herself up onto her knees and began crawling forward in a panic. “Ash?” she whispered. “Ash, what’s happening?”

  The man threw his head back and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  “Oh my god,” Amara said, tripping over herself as she stumbled to her feet. “Thorn! What the hell is happening! Stop this, you’re killing him!”

  “I can’t stop now,” Thornton growled through gritted teeth. His whole body was shaking with the energy output, and sweat was dripping down his forehead and neck. Amara noticed for the first time that both men were using Silver Form. Thornton was struggling to perform the technique, his fingers all bent and shaking. “He is fine. I have to keep going!”

  Amara watched in shock as the hole in Asher’s chest expanded, and a dark vortex began to spin in the center of his body. He screamed in unbearable pain as the cyclone seemed to suck the life out of him. “Ash!” Amara cried out, moving toward him. “Oh, god. Thorn—did you know this was going to happen? Stop chanting, you evil son of a bitch!”

  Thornton grunted in response as he continued to make the vortex grow. You’re calling mom a bitch?

  “Leave Ash alone! You motherfucking asshole!”

  Language, sis. She’s your mother too.

  “Thorn! This is no time for your stupid jokes,” Amara said hysterically. “You’re hurting him. You’re hurting Ash!”

  He’s fine. He’s tough. We need to keep going, Mara.

  She felt tears flood her eyes as she watched Asher writhing and moaning in anguish. “Please don’t kill him, Thorn. You’re going too far. If that vortex opens any wider, there won’t be any of him left.”

  Thornton paused then, realizing that she was right. He stopped chanting and looked at his sister. “I’m going to dive through that portal, Mara. I need you to take care of Ash when it closes behind me. There might be an explosion.”

  “Go!” she said tearfully, reaching out to hold Asher’s arm. The roaring wind and energy of the vortex tossed her hair around madly, and it stuck to her moist cheeks. “He can’t take much more of this! Just go!”

  Asher was unable to speak as the hole tortured and ripped apart his insides. He panted and whimpered, grabbing Amara’s hand and gripping her tightly.

  Thornton frowned. “I’m sorry about doing it this way, bro—I didn’t know the text was literal. I really should have read it more carefully.” He winced, ignoring the death glare that Asher sent him. “If it makes you feel better, I think that the portal back does not require a deva heart as the conduit. It should be able to open in the space where you’re standing.”

  “Thorn, just go!” Amara begged. “He’s in so much pain.”

  The blonde man nodded purposefully. “Don’t let the explosion hurt him.” With that, Thornton dove into the vortex in his friend’s chest, and disappeared.

  Amara’s eyes widened as she saw the explosion beginning, almost as if it was happening in slow motion. She found herself instinctively reaching forward to place her hands around the expanding mushroom cloud, quelling the blast with her own prana. She felt the searing heat against her palms, but her only thought was of Asher. She closed her eyes, screaming as she tried to release enough prana to subdue and counteract the explosion.

  When she opened her eyes, she found that the vortex had disappeared—and her fresh manicure had been destroyed. Her hands were torn and bleeding as they rested against Asher’s chest, on either side of his heart. She stared in horror at the open wound in his chest. Blood tricked down his abdomen in rivulets, and she was staring directly at his beating heart. The organ pumped rapidly, and Amara was so shocked at the sight of his open chest that she nearly fainted.

  She shrieked when he reached out to touch her elbow. He stared at her blankly for a second and began falling to his knees. “Ash!” she sobbed, gathering her wits enough to place her arms around his waist and catch him. “Oh my god,” she whispered as she became instantly soaked with his blood. “I need to get you to Sakra.”

  I’m okay, he told her as his head fell forward onto her shoulder. Just leave me here. You can just drop me on the floor if you want to go.

  “Are you fucking insane?” she gasped angrily. “I’m not going to let you die.” She felt him tighten his grasp around her. Was he using her body for stability, to keep from collapsing, or was he embracing her? She couldn’t tell. “I can’t believe Thorn did that to you!” she hissed.

  “Mara,” he moaned out weakly.

  She stiffened slightly as she tightened her grip on his back. She was not sure whether she was clinging to him for dear life, or whether she was trying to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. She could hear his thoughts. Was he about to tell her he loved her? That he was sorry?

  “Mara, please listen,” Asher mumbled through his pain. “I—I want you to know that—didn’t mean to—god, I’m an idiot. I really, really lo—” He was interrupted by a wave of pain which caused his body to convulse in a paroxysm.

  Amara held onto him tightly, trying to restrain him from hurting himself, and when the convulsion was over, he lay limply against her. “Oh my god,” she whispered in disbelief. “Oh my god, Ash. Don’t die on me now.” She levitated into the air, clutching the man’s lifeless body against her chest. She knew that she needed to get to India as quickly as possible. She needed Sakra to heal Asher’s wounds two minutes ago.

  As she propelled her body forward through the atmosphere, with tears leaking from her eyes, she couldn’t help bellowing out into the empty sky. “Damn you, Thorn! I hate you, you stupid asshole!”

  * * *

  A week later…

  Emerging through the wormhole-portal, Thornton stumbled forward onto the surface of an unfamiliar place. He lifted a hand to cover his eyes as a harsh wind blew across the foreign lands. Fearing that the portal would not stay open for very long, he didn’t take any time to look around and determine where he was before seeking out his father’s life force. He couldn’t seem to determine Pax’s location. Using
his prana to push his body through the air, he frowned in concern for Pax’s health. Why couldn’t he sense her?

  When he was close to his father’s faded energy, he noticed two bodies lying near a clump of rocks. Vincent was seated with his back to the rocks while Pax was curled up in the fetal position next to him. Thornton rushed to the wounded girl before saying a word to his father. He pressed two fingers against her neck to check for a pulse. Finding a weak beat, he lifted her into his arms and examined her bruised body fearfully. He cradled her against his chest and glared at Vincent.

  “Father! What the hell did you do…”

  “She’s fine, boy. It was her initiative to train this intensively.”

  Thornton shook his head in disbelief. “Couldn’t you have taken it easy on her?”

  Vincent arched a golden eyebrow. “Pax was your woman. Do you mean to tell me that she has ever requested someone ‘take it easy’ on her in her entire life?”

  “Good point,” Thornton grumbled. “Well, let’s get her home. I opened an interplanetary portal and it won’t last for very long.”

  “You did what, boy? Whose heart did you use?”

  “Asher’s,” he said with guilt.

  “I see. And you complain about how I treated Pax when you just ripped your friend’s chest open?”

  “I didn’t know that was going to happen. We need to go,” Thornton said, choosing not to sling more barbs and risk getting into a lengthy argument with his father. Holding Pax, he flew back toward the door from which he had arrived. Thornton glanced behind him to make sure his father was following, and was surprised to notice that Vincent was rather injured as well. The older man was clutching his abdomen as he flew behind his son. Upon approaching the portal, Thornton glanced down at Pax to assess her condition. He glared back at his father.

  “Why did you have to beat her so badly? Was this necessary?”

  “Actually, yes,” Vincent confirmed as he gazed down at the unconscious girl. “She’s using Morta Bhava.”

  “What! Why?”

  “Because she’s a stupid girl,” Vincent said in a manner which Thornton identified as mildly affectionate. The older man narrowed his eyes. “When we get back to Earth, you need to take care of her. I’m going home to my wife.”

  “Fine. Why in Sakra’s name were you training like this?”

  Vincent’s mouth was set into a firm line. “You shouldn’t be asking me such a dumb question. We all need to be in prime physical condition.”

  “What for?” Thornton demanded. “For that strange power you feel somewhere off in space? We have no idea what that could…”

  “Do not deceive yourself that anyone amassing that much strength intends to use it for something charitable.” Vincent looked at Thornton fiercely before moving into the portal. “It’s going to be bad, son.”

  Chapter 16: Now or Never

  Asher lifted his head from the cot on which he was lying. A few feet away, he noticed a girl sprawled out drunkenly at a desk. Blinking away his double vision, he confirmed that it was Amara Kalgren. Swallowing back a lump of pain in his throat, he observed the long tendrils of golden hair messily splayed over the tabletop. She looked as though she had fallen asleep unintentionally. Her head rested on her arms, and underneath her arms were a pile of scattered fashion magazines.

  Without intending to check her out, Asher’s eyes drifted down the body of the beautiful girl that sat slumped in the bamboo chair. She was still wearing her pink bathrobe, and her long legs curled under her, leading to adorable bare feet. It was unusual to see her this way, without her classic high heels and designer dresses. It was somehow humanizing, reminding him of the delicate girl he used to know.

  He watched her shoulders move up and down ever so slightly with her breathing, and his brow creased. She looks like a fallen angel, Asher thought to himself, and I’m the one who ripped her out of heaven and broke her. I’m the one who smashed her wings. He pulled himself off the cot with a groan, placing a hand on his sore chest as he looked around at his surroundings. The white marble walls blurred in his vision, creating a strange white glow. Is this heaven? I don’t belong here.

  Asher shook his head firmly to clear the hallucinations, but new images began haunting him. Swinging his legs to the side of the bed, he gripped the corner of the mattress as he tried to cast away an unpleasant memory.

  “I don’t see why I keep cooking for five when only two are at the table!” grumbled Amelia. “Where is that girl anyway?”

  His mother’s eyes bored into him, and Asher coughed on a piece of meat. “Well, I told you Mara’s working… so you must mean Paxie. Why are you looking at me?”

  “If anyone knows what's going on with her, it’s you,” Amelia accused. “Spill it, son. Why is she missing dinner for the third week in a row?”

  “Jufst ssfome proffblemsff wiffth Thorfffn,” Asher mumbled while chewing.

  “Please don’t talk with your mouth full,” Amelia said. “This isn’t like Pax. I’m worried.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. She’ll come home when she’s feeling better.”

  “My only grandchild and she doesn’t show up for family dinner!” mused Amelia. “I wish I didn’t have such a terrible shortage of grandchildren. In case you aren’t paying attention, that was a hint, Ash.”

  “What?” Asher said, choking. “Hint about what?”

  Amelia pouted at her son. “Ash, sweetie, when are you going to make me a darling little grandbaby?”

  Asher blinked. “Quit fucking asking me that! Never!”

  Realizing how harsh his words had sounded, he quickly uttered an apology. His mother ignored him, miserably pushing her food around on her plate. A forlorn look came into her eyes, and she became very distant. This bothered Asher more than anything. Raymond and Asher had grown up around an angry, temperamental, lonely and distressed mother, but her quiet forbearance was an altogether different thing.

  Asher worried about her. “I’m sorry, mom, really, I am.”

  Shaking her head, Amelia smiled sadly, and spoke in a very soft voice. “You’re just like your father and brother. I’m not sure why you even bother staying here. You might as well leave like all the others—this whole family is a joke.”

  With that, she withdrew to her room, leaving Asher speechless and in a flurry of emotion.

  “Dammit,” Asher groaned, staring down at his food. “Dammit.” He knew that he needed to speak with her. Although his father had left under heroic circumstances, his brother had left from cowardice. He knew that he was all his mother had left in the world, next to her hardworking granddaughter who was hardly home.

  Lifting himself from his chair, Asher began walking down the hallway in the direction Amelia had disappeared. He approached a small door and knocked on it gently. “Mom? Is everything alright?”

  There was no response, and Asher cracked the door open a few inches. He saw Amelia seated on the edge of her bed, dragging her wide sleeve across her eyes.

  “Mom?” he asked again in surprise.

  Amelia looked up at him, from eyes shining with tears. “Don’t you think that poor girl knows that you have one foot out the door?”

  “Mom...”

  “No. I thought I raised you better than this! Why do you leave her hanging?”

  Asher paused for a moment, and said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m not good enough…”

  “How dare you say that!”

  “It’s true, Mom. Amara is a princess, a goddess, and an heiress.”

  “You’re the son of the Fire Deva!”

  “I’m an unemployed college dropout.”

  “Mara loves you. Petty things like schooling don’t matter; you are my son and you are worthy," Amelia insisted. “Do you think Rose Kalgren is the only woman with impressive roots? I come from an aristocratic European family who used to…”

  “Listen, mom. That’s who you are. Not me. Amara studied and contributed to her family business. She didn’t just inherit a fortune—
she made some of her own. But what have I done? I’m just a lowly piece of crap. I can’t hold down a job…”

  “Amara doesn’t care! Has she ever insulted you, Ash? Has she ever demanded that you do more with your life?”

  “No. But I know that she wishes for more than a poor boy…”

  “Poor? You have superhuman powers. Look at this house. We have land and we have investments…”

  “Then why did you make us grow vegetables and hunt our own food?”

  “To teach you values! So that you wouldn’t grow up spoiled like the Kalgren kids.”

  “Well, your other son has values,” Asher said bitterly. “Raymond is your scholar, your warrior, your champion. He gave you a grandchild—I can’t be like him. I can’t be a responsible adult—I can’t.”

  “Yes,” Amelia whispered, turning away. “That poor girl. You are stunted—not physically, but emotionally. I thought that I raised you to have some self-esteem, but… Oh, just leave me alone, Ash.”

  “Mom… please don’t be sad. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Just answer this,” said Amelia quietly. “If you had to make a choice, and it was now or never: Ash, would you choose to commit to her?”

  The dark-haired man was silent for a moment before he abruptly turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

  “I thought so,” whispered Amelia, and Asher heard the words just before he blasted out of the house. His rage at her quiet hopelessness fuelled his flight even faster.

  He flew at increasing speeds through the night sky, with no true direction, for what felt like forever. He flew at such high altitudes that he felt extremely cold, and then at even higher altitudes than that, until he felt extreme heat as he descended through the atmosphere. Three words kept circulating in his mind as he pushed his body faster and faster: now or never.

  Asher found as his energy exhausted, that he fell to a normal flying altitude. He was so lost in thought that he nearly had a collision with an airplane, and he dodged out of the way at the last second. For some reason, that startled him into alertness and into taking action. He knew what he needed to do. Asher flew home. To Amara’s house. He sensed for her energy, and slowly trudged down the steps to her basement laboratory. Of course, Amara was tinkering with some unidentifiable contraption. He stood watching her work in her pink lab coat. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, and there were smudges of grease on her face and hands.