Chapter 18 #3
Lucien’s green eyes were dark and unmoved by the fear that made her voice waver. "If you hate me, so be it. I’d rather have your hatred than your blood on my hands, Vesperin." He kissed her so harshly their teeth clicked together. "I love you."
He stood then, and she struggled against the vines. It was no use.
She stared up at him, her head following him as he slowly backed away. Thorny vines shot from his back in large, twisting spirals, ripping his shirt into tatters. The material fell away, leaving him bare-chested and flushed with sweat. The thorns were so sharp and pointed, they were like needles.
"Lucien!" she called, her head throbbing with the word.
Vines curled over her neck, then stilled.
Pain drew his brows low over his eyes. "You must be quiet. You cannot draw attention to yourself. You have to stay here. You will be safe. I—we," he asserted, "will make it so."
He turned and left her there, tied to the couch with thornless vines.
She struggled against the vines, breathless.
All the while, she could not hate Lucien for this. It was what he had always done. Protected her.
Her skin grew slick with sweat from exertion and pain. The Stella in her veins offered no aid.
Gunshots cracked beyond the broken walls of her home, accompanied by shouts, thuds, and the wet sound of bodies hitting the ground.
She envisioned them dead, gutted, with lifeless eyes, broken on the ground. And she’d be left here, alone, tied up as the perfect offering to the Rogues. But no.
Vesperin knew that was not true.
She felt it, like the shadows that offered her comfort, soothing over her feet as they kicked, struggling against the impenetrable vines.
They were still alive.
Beyond the walls of the house, the sky trembled. The walls shuddered.
She gave a hitched gasp in fear, freezing. Her head tipped back as she stared at the shaking roof. Dust fell around her.
"No," she breathed, feeling her heart crack against her ribcage.
There was a low whooshing sound, just before the vines loosened, then fell away.
In a blur of darkness, Rhyden appeared. Blood was splattered on his pale skin, misted along his sharp jaw.
His fangs flashed in glee as his deep red eyes met hers.
She started to stand, but before she could fully, he was before her, arms wrapping around her waist as he lifted her against his chest. His arm banded beneath her back, the other under her hips.
"Rhyden?"
"We have to go," he said sharply, placing his hand on her cheek, forcing her head against his shoulder. "Close your eyes, or you’ll get dizzy."
She barely closed her eyes before the world spun around her. It felt as though she’d left her heart behind as he used his vampiric speed to flee from the house, with her in his arms.
She felt him slow, and her mind struggled to make sense of it—the influx of sounds. The Rogues’ roars made her already pounding head worse. She tasted iron on the back of her tongue, but swallowed it down.
She slid down his body as he released her. Her bare feet sank into something wet, warm; she didn’t look. Through the heavy red fog, she saw a mass of destruction.
In the center of it all, Lucien stood proud, face pale, black hair matted to his temples with sweat, dirt, and ash.
Vines curled from his back, at his shoulder blades like grotesque wings.
Not grotesque at all, she realized, as he turned and raised his arms, his bare chest gleaming in the red glow that filled the air.
A large crack formed in the yard as Lucien stretched his hands wide.
The ground split, and the oncoming Rogues fell right into the pit, thrashing before they slipped below, out of sight.
"Lucien," Vesperin breathed. "He… he’s protecting me." She hadn’t known he had this in him—such fierceness.
He turned and met her eyes, and she saw a thin trail of blood dripping from his nose. Like hers. He reached up to wipe his forearm over it, smearing it along his upper lip. His shoulders loosened as he met her gaze, then tightened in fear as his eyes swept up, past where Rhyden stood by her side.
The air thrummed, quivering as a heat licked at her spine. So hot she winced, wanting to flee, dip herself in a pool of ice.
But she was stuck, rooted to the ground like a tree, roots burrowing. Because something dark and sleek streaked through the red sky.
It looked like a falling Star.
She realized it was not, as a dark parachute flared out, catching it and slowing its dangerous fall into a gentle cascade.
It was coming right for them.
Rhyden lifted her until her feet dangled.
Everything blurred. Then she was on her stomach, Rhyden pressing her to the ground.
She felt the full weight of him atop her.
Lucien dropped by her side, his fingers reaching for her across the blood-soaked, dead grass.
She lifted her head, unable to move much with Rhyden pressing her so firmly to the ground, using his body to shield her.
Her eyes burned from the smoke, from the heat—from emotion.
She saw Auren and Cyrus further away. They were on the ground, side by side.
Cyrus covered his ears with his palms. His red hair was wild, and she knew him.
She knew him so well. She knew that the way his purple eyes widened, then narrowed, then softened, meant he was trying to be brave for her.
She had seen him wear such an expression so many times.
In this life and on Sibeth, when he had done everything for her, to make her feel safe.
Heat flared, wind whistled, as the dark thing crashed into her home, caving in the roof.
As she stared at Auren, she saw the paleness of the Star on his cheek. Nothing about it was comforting to her. It felt like the end. His Star had died, and so too did her hope that they could get out of this and—
The ground shuddered, settling, as more of the roof caved beneath the weight of the small ship that had fallen on it.
The parachute drifted to the side, partially obscuring the dark ship. Smoke rose from the edges in thick plumes. Rogues chittered and cried; some sounded hollow, as they roared from below the ground, in the cracks they had fallen into as Lucien had stretched himself thin with his Stella.
When the dust settled and the air grew still and the ship’s thrum was silenced, only then did Rhyden push up off her. His palm settled on her hips, fingers soothing against her flesh, before he pulled away and stood.
Lucien helped her up, his arms under her shoulders. Cyrus and Auren stood, too, and Cyrus wrapped his arm around her. She felt his shaky, stifled exhale as he crushed her to his chest. He smelled like blood and berries.
They all stared at the smoking ship. Her home was… in ruins. Though it already had been. A house of ghostly memories.
Her bones thrummed, the only warning before there was a faint chitter, the scratch of claws. Then a lowlevel Rogue tore through the red mist.
It leaped, right toward her and Rhyden.
Rhyden pushed her out of the way. His gun was on the ground, dropped in the chaos.
He couldn’t reach it in time, and on instinct, her hand shot out.
A pulse of blue light rushed from her veins and shot out toward the Rogue.
When the light met the rock-like monster, it shrieked, shuddering before it fell. It was dead.
Rhyden’s nostrils flared as he bent for his gun, then reached for her, spinning her roughly to face him. The action made her head pound anew.
"You saved me," Rhyden said, voice a gruff rasp.
She could only stare up at him. "Of course, I saved you." It was all she could manage.
There was a loud hiss, and the group whipped around to the caved-in house and the ship.
The dark fabric of the parachute rippled, then, from beneath it, a figure emerged. He wore a black spacesuit, a sleek helmet on his head. He reached up, touching a latch on the side, before he tugged it off and threw it to the ground, where it clattered down rubble and brick.
Kit’s brown hair was matted with sweat, cheeks flushed red from being in the suit. The grey smoke from the ship mingled with the red fog as he stood tall there, on top of her ruined home.
Rhyden raised his gun.
Vesperin gasped, feet taking her toward Kit. Their eyes locked; neither could look away.
Rhyden grabbed her arm. "Don’t."
"He will not hurt me." Her voice felt weaker now. Adrenaline waned. She felt herself thinning, like a Star burned through too quickly.
It could have been a trick of the fog, but she swore Kit’s cheeks were wet with tears.
He stumbled down, but the roof was dangerous. He paused, head scanning.
The air burned, and she coughed, feeling turned inside out as it made her belly tug. Auren gripped her arm, steadying her—and keeping her from recklessly going to Kit, where wreckage kept him trapped on the roof.
Vesperin struggled weakly, vision shimmering with tears. "Please," she whispered to her Soulbonds. They had vowed to protect her. Kit was hers. He would not hurt her.
Vines curled along Lucien’s arms. One thickened like a branch, as it shot from his hand, acting like a staff to keep him steady as he walked. His eyes were glassy. How much Stella could one use before they ran dry? Fear filled her.
He walked toward the house before Vesperin could stop him. Her gut twisted with anxiety as Lucien met her eyes. "I will get him for you." Because even the… Phoenix was not invincible. Even an experiment could not safely get down from the wreckage of the house.
"Lucien… wait." The words were lost in the wind.
But Lucien was too selfless for his own good, which drew her to him, even when her suppressed memories didn’t know they were fated.
Rubble blocked his path, fallen walls and broken shingles jutting from the ground.
Rogues trilled, heavy footfalls behind them, growing closer. The fight was not over, but she was so tired already.