Chapter 3 #2
Rin brushed the thought off, buried beneath a narcotized cloud. She had clung so desperately to the idea of having Lucien and Kit, her mind began to conjure fragmented what-ifs. That was all.
"You’re a victim of this. Don’t apologize for what was done to you," Lucien said.
"Kit’s a victim too, but he still caused so much pain." More than just how he’d tortured her—she thought of her grief after he died, the sleepless nights. "You’re not angry I left?"
Lucien smiled, echoed by varying sounds from the others. A scoff from Rhyden, a huff from Auren, and a tutting sound from Cyrus as he walked his fingers across her legs, down to her ankle, then repeated it.
"I’m furious," Lucien said gently, "but we’ll talk about that later. What matters is that you’re here—with us."
"How did you break away?" Auren inquired. "We left you with Rhyden, did we not? No matter how hard I try to envision a way for you to best him, I cannot."
Rin’s gaze drifted to the vampire. His arms were crossed, jaw clenched.
"Well, I thought you knew—" she started.
"That I was a fool," Rhyden interrupted. The tenor was deep and frigid, melting against her flesh as if ice cubes were being dragged over her skin.
He stepped closer to her. Fear sliced through the haze of the drug.
Lucien’s thumb traced the pulse point on the delicate underside of her wrist. Her heart rate spiked as the vampire drew nearer, reaching a peak as he brushed past Lucien and sat on the bed—far too close.
His red eyes darkened into a deep maroon as she shifted, her back hitting the headboard.
The same headboard she’d tied the ropes to, to ensure he couldn’t get away.
She shivered.
As if Rhyden read her mind—or maybe the direction of her thoughts was that clear on her face—he forced out a low sound. It bordered on histrionic, an overdramatization of anguish.
"I’m so glad you’re okay, wife," Rhyden grated the words out.
Lucien sat back, making space for the vampire. As his fingers drifted away from her hand, she tried to clutch him, make him stay. Don’t leave me alone with him, her eyes pleaded, but Lucien seemed resigned. His eyes read, I’m not yours. They are.
Or maybe she was projecting.
With Rhyden right before her, he took her face in between his cold, beringed hands. His fingernails dug into her cheeks, making her lips puff.
"I left her alone. I got a call from Miro on some intel. She was on the couch reading. I thought she’d be okay alone—for just a fucking second.
" Rhyden spoke as if she weren’t right there—as if he weren’t staring right at her, holding her fragile face in between his strong hands.
He could crush her. She was even waiting for it.
"I stepped out into the parking garage to take the call. I was… tied up in the conversation. I started pacing like a goddamned fool. I ended the call, and when I came back inside, she was gone. Must’ve slipped out while I was mere feet away. "
Rin opened her mouth, cheeks squeezed from the vampire’s grip.
She started to protest—that didn’t happen—but a look of pure violence befell his face, and his thumb—the one closest to the wall, hidden out of the others’ sight—dug in so hard that she felt the inside of her cheek cut on her molars, blood filling her mouth.
He exhaled sharply, as if scenting it.
Soft as falling flower petals, quiet as drifting snow, Rhyden leaned forward, still gripping her cheeks, as he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth.
His thumbs dug into the pressure point on her jaw, forcing her mouth to part fully.
His tongue swept inside, briefly claiming her as he tasted the faint traces of blood from the cut on the inside of her mouth.
It was quick, barely a second.
He pulled away, lips hovering over hers as he repeated, "I’m so glad you’re alive." His voice was loud enough for the others to hear.
She knew that wasn’t all he wished to say.
Rhyden moved her head to the side, away from the wall and toward the others, as his lips met her ear. His voice dropped to a low whisper. Just for the two of them. "Because now I can get my revenge for what you did."
Cyrus curled up beside his little doll, fussing with the covers around her, wanting her to be warm and tucked in—safe.
The alarm disengaged, and his attention moved to the door as it opened.
Rhyden entered, clad in dark leather everything. His helmet was notched at his hip, his white hair messed up. Just like the buttons on his shirt.
Cyrus narrowed his eyes, soothing a hand over Vesperin’s hair until he pressed his palm flat against her ear. "I hope you’re not fucking anyone. I’d have to kill you for that—it’d hurt her, even if she never said so."
The vampire froze, one foot hovering over the ground. Then, he shook his head, throwing his helmet and keys on the couch, before he went to the locked mini fridge near the normal, stainless steel one.
Rhyden punched in the code and withdrew a glass bottle, filled with thick red blood, pouring it carelessly into a wine glass. Blood nearly sloshed over the sides.
After a few healthy sips, his bright red eyes found Cyrus tangled with Rin on the bed. "That’s none of your goddamned business, incubus. Even if it were, I wouldn’t tell you. And trust me, she doesn’t care who I fuck—or don’t."
"She might say she doesn’t, but I know her. She’d be sad. She’s already so sad." Cyrus felt her soft breaths from her slightly parted lips against his wrist.
They’d removed the IV after she’d been able to get some soup down the day before. Slowly but surely, she was healing.
Deep, cold winter snuck up on them. And with it came Christmas.
The holiday wasn’t celebrated on Sibeth, but his doll was from Earth this time around.
He wondered if she grew up wearing cute little mittens and those hats with puffs dangling from the end.
He imagined it and smiled. They were going to leave for Lunar City after Christmas.
Maybe he could get her a little present to make her days brighter while she was stuck here.
"What made you even think that?" Rhyden’s voice ripped Cyrus from his musings.
"The buttons on your shirt are done all wrong," Cyrus replied lowly.
Rhyden cursed and glanced down. "If you’re so insistent on knowing, I was out getting us some fucking answers. Doing my job. I didn’t want to come back covered in blood. I figure that would make you more mad than if I staggered back just-fucked. Can never win with you incubi."
"Maybe you do need to get fucked, but it certainly won’t be with Vesperin." Cyrus smirked, disentangling from her.
He moved to the vampire. The base was quiet.
Auren called to reap, and Lucien at the hospital.
The doctor had to keep up appearances—he’d shared that Sabine and Talor were supposedly off-planet again.
Good, because Cyrus wanted to hunt them down and string them up into pretty little pieces. Now that would be a good present.
Cyrus rested his palms on the countertop. "I’m surprised she stooped so low as to let you inside her, even for a con."
Rhyden slammed his empty glass down. In a flash, he rounded the counter and wrapped his hand around Cyrus’s throat in warning.
Cyrus was starved. He opened up his senses, sipping at the vampire’s rage, until it unfurled an answering emotion inside him. Anger always tasted like overripe strawberries.
"We already talked about this, incubus. If you ever breathe a word of what she did to me—to anyone—I’ll gut you. Soulbond or not, I don’t give a shit."
"Your secret’s safe with me. I’ll keep quiet, but I won’t stop her from telling the others how she bested you." Cyrus echoed Auren’s earlier words from a few days ago. The Soul Searcher was smart. He was shocked that Auren hadn’t figured it out already.
That day, Cyrus had fed on the light emotions he found while walking the streets, hood over his head and hands stuffed deep in his pockets; he still had to hide his identity.
The well of mercuriality found in humans filled him so completely he didn’t even miss the release of sex, nearly dizzy as he’d stumbled back to the base.
As he’d unlocked the door, all the lightness inside him had drained at the sight of Rhyden Valkar, nude and tied to the bed. The vampire’s rage had been so potent, Cyrus hadn’t even had to open himself up to it.
Rhyden hadn’t uttered a word, not even begged Cyrus to untie him.
But he had anyway, smiling while he loosened the knots, then dangling the rope over the vampire’s face with a laugh.
Rhyden had forced him to swear silence, and Cyrus agreed—his thoughts had been elsewhere, on his little doll, imagining her tying someone up and having her way with them. He wondered if she’d tie him up.
But all the lust inside him was replaced by worry as Rhyden shared that she was gone.
They’d just been preparing to leave when there’d been a soft ping from the sensors placed in the vacant parking garage—motion had been detected.
Rhyden had been strapping a gun to a hidden harness beneath his leather jacket. Cyrus had been the one to open the door.
Only to find Vesperin’s broken body left on the cold, grey ground.
Kiton Blackfall, the one who had done that to her.
Cyrus wanted to kill him.
Rin stared listlessly at the plastic tree Cyrus placed near the couches. His red hair flopped over his forehead as he bent and plugged the cord into an outlet. Soft white light began to glow on the little tree, shimmering like Stars.
He stood and gestured dramatically. "Ta-da! Happy Christmas, doll."
"It’s merry Christmas," Rin corrected faintly.
She’d been on bed rest since she’d woken, nearly a week ago. Even awake, she felt bruised inside, as if a piece of her was forever changed by what had happened.
The IV was gone, the drugs Lucien had used to keep her calm gone too. She’d never ask for more, but sometimes, alone at night, she wondered what he’d say if she begged for that soft, fuzzy oblivion again.