Chapter 3 #3
As if the veil between her and her past lives had been thinned by the drugs, she’d dreamed of her past, the men who claimed she was theirs.
Now, with the drugs out of her system, she could only recall fragments, like the scattered pieces of a puzzle.
Making no sense alone, but she knew if she had all the pieces and fit them together perfectly, it would all come into focus.
She’d dreamed of Kit.
Rin didn’t want to know what that meant.
And a stranger with black eyes haunted her dreams, a scent like home, filling her with calmness.
It was Christmas Eve, and Rin didn’t feel festive. She felt broken.
Still, the others tried.
Lucien had brought her favorite books, and Cyrus had curled up with her with a glass of eggnog. He’d never had it, he’d told her. His newest mission was decorating, even though after tomorrow, the holiday would be over and they’d be barreling straight toward a new year.
"Happy, merry, same thing. I can never keep up with you humans," Cyrus sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed.
Rin leaned into him, the blankets tangled around her legs, in her lap. She wore thin shorts and an oversized hoodie that smelled faintly of Cyrus and Lucien’s laundry detergent. So, she assumed it had belonged to the incubus at one point or another, before being washed at Lucien’s apartment.
"Cyrus…" Rin mumbled.
His arm wrapped around her shoulder. "Yes, doll?"
"Do you think Kit’s looking for me?"
She felt him inhale.
"I don’t want to scare you, Ves."
She twisted in his hold, peering up at him. He was truly gorgeous and seemed so devoted to her. What had she done to deserve Soulbonds willing to risk everything for her? Well, except Rhyden. She shivered, pushing the thought aside.
"Only lies scare me. Never the truth."
Cyrus tangled his fingers in her hair before carding down the side of her neck. His hands caught in the chain of the dog tag—Kit’s last mark on her. Rin couldn’t bear to take it off.
"Lucien said your adoptive parents left the planet. They questioned him first about where you are. He’s pretending not to know anything, but he said that…"
"He said…?" Rin’s fingers slipped down his waist, tracing the lean ridges of his muscle, gently inching up the fabric. He jumped beneath her touch.
"Your touch feels so good, but I know you’re trying to distract me," he said fondly. "Fine. Your doctor lover said his office was broken into yesterday. A picture of you, Lucien had on his desk, he said it was stolen. Everything important had been left. We think it was him. Kiton."
Rin flinched away from the utter violence imbued in that one word. She started to shake. Kit had been in Lucien’s office… Electricity buzzed sickeningly in her mind. "What if—what if Lucien had been there? What if Kit had hurt him like he hurt me? I’d never forgive myself—"
Cyrus soothed her, cradling her face in his hands. His purple eyes seemed to glow. "Don’t panic, doll. Please, it breaks my heart. Let me take it from you, hm? The fear. It won’t hurt. It’ll feel nice. I promise."
She nodded helplessly.
Red glimmers filled the air, prickling against her skin.
She felt him as he drifted inside her, latching onto her terror and sipping at it. Like a popped balloon, the fear left her.
With the absence of fear, she was left with deep sadness only.
The glimmers faded into him, as if they’d never been there. Cyrus stroked his thumbs beneath her eyes, catching her tears. Rin held onto his wrists, the red jewels on her bracelet catching the lights on the little tree behind him.
"There, all done. Does that feel better for you?"
"I’m not scared anymore." Rin was just hollow.
"Whenever you want me to take from you, tell me. The taste of your fear isn’t something I like, but I’ll endure for you. At least it’s yours. Anything about you is good."
Her throat tightened. "What does it taste like?" she asked to distract herself.
"Like licorice." Cyrus’s tone was matter-of-fact.
Rin gave a wet laugh. She settled into his arms, and he tugged the blanket over her lap, tightening his hold on her—as if she really were a doll he wished to keep wrapped up safe in his possession.
They were all careful with her now—even Rhyden, who seemed resigned to watch her threateningly from a distance. She’d not kissed any of them since before. But right now, she found herself wanting to kiss Cyrus. She was too shy, too broken, to initiate, so she looked at him, hoping he’d understand.
"I know that look, doll. You want my mouth on yours?" His hand slid to her neck, tilting her head back. Even charged with desire, he held her delicately.
"Yes. Kiss me, Cy? I want to—forget."
He made a low, pained sound. "You kill me, and you have no idea. Alright," he purred. "Just a kiss, though. You’re not ready for what I want to do with you."
Rin liked the way he said that—do with her. As if he wished for her to give as much as take.
Fingers still tangled in her hair, Cyrus leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. He tasted just as good as she remembered. Berries.
She sighed into him.
Cyrus seemed to want to keep it chaste, but he was an incubus.
He parted her lips with his, tongue stroking sweetly into her mouth, teasing.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers.
He kept her body molded to his chest, her neck aching from the angle.
"I’ve thought of how I fucked you on Sibeth a thousand times a day.
It’s all I dream of at night. Next time, when you let me inside you, I promise I won’t let myself lose control.
I’ll put you first. I’ll taste between your thighs, and I won’t stop—no matter how you beg me.
I’ll make you come on my tongue again and again, until you’re sobbing and sleepy. "
Rin’s eyes dropped to his lips, desperate.
Cyrus shifted, kissing the space between her brows as he released her hair and let her head fall back against his chest. She felt the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her ear.
She wondered what hers sounded like; she felt the erratic beat, fit to break through her flesh—from desire or sickness, she didn’t know.
"But that’s for another day. Sleep now, doll. I’ll keep you safe."
She fell asleep in his arms, the soft glow of the Christmas lights sparkling behind her closed lids.
She dreamed of a willow tree and snow crunching under her feet.
She slept most of Christmas day, waking softly as the sun fell and the moon rose. The sound of popcorn kernels being popped drifted from the tiny stove in the base’s kitchen. Light, merry music played from Lucien’s phone, stolen by Cyrus.
Her stomach couldn’t handle heavier foods, so she sipped on a vanilla and chocolate smoothie. The others began to converge around the bed. She hated how it made her feel so broken, to be tended to like this.
Suddenly, Rin moved the sheets out of the way, trying to stand.
Auren stopped her. "You need rest. Your body has not yet healed."
Lucien watched intently, as if curious—perhaps envious—of how Auren handled her.
Rin placed a pale hand on Auren’s arm, feeling the soft fabric of his blue sweater under her fingertips.
"I want to get up and go to the couch, at least, Auren. I can’t stand sitting here any longer."
"If that’s what you want, Vesperin, but not alone. Let us help," Lucien said, as he moved to her side and took her elbow. Together, they helped her to the couch.
She sat heavily, legs trembling just from the short walk. Cyrus draped a blanket over her lap, curling into the corner beside her.
Lucien hovered, allowing Auren to take her other side. Her heart twinged with guilty want as Lucien perched on the coffee table. Rhyden watched, as if waiting for something.
Rin met his stare with a challenge. The drugs were long out of her system, and she remembered clearly what she had done to him; he seemed to, as well.
But instead of acting on it, he was biding his time.
A thrill suffused the very marrow of her bones as the vampire reached into his pocket and pulled out a long piece of black rope.
He trailed it between his fingers as he stared at her.
"Presents," Cyrus announced, breaking her from her stare.
She turned her head to meet his eyes, and he reached forward, a piece of popcorn in between his fingers as he brushed it against her lips.
It was salty. "Open up, doll." Lucien made a sound of protest, but Cyrus cut him off.
"Just a little bite. It won’t hurt, right? Only a taste. You can have more later."
She opened her mouth, and Cyrus’s eyes dipped to it as he placed the piece of popcorn on her tongue.
Rin hummed at the taste. "I missed solid food. You said presents? I didn’t…
get any of you anything. It’s not much of a holiday, trapped here.
" She missed the sun. She hadn’t left since her failed mission.
At the thought, her throat closed up. "I have no one to blame but myself, though. I dug my own grave, and now I’m suffocating beneath the dirt. "
They stayed quiet. Cyrus took her hand. She felt Auren shift closer imperceptibly, his shoulder brushing hers, his masculine, woodsy scent chasing away some of her pain.
"Let’s not discuss this now. I don’t want to ruin this for you," said Lucien.
"What if I want to? I keep waiting for you to yell at me, but you don’t. Why?"
Auren moved to let Lucien take his spot. The cushion shifted as Lucien sat beside her, not giving her any time to protest as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She pressed her face into his shirt, inhaling the faint scent of medicine that always clung to him.
His hand tangled in her hair. She closed her eyes and felt the burn of electricity against her flesh, muscles seizing. She gave a low sob.
Lucien soothed her. "Don’t cry, Vesperin."
"Just yell at me. Tell me you’re angry, hit me, hurt me—" Her voice cracked.