27. The Protector
Chapter twenty-seven
The Protector
Sammy
T he handle begins to twist, and the door opens, as I’m lying in my new firm bed after spending hours uselessly calling for her. I stare at the ornate ceiling and contemplate everything that has happened, ever since Dinah and I were forced to the capital for her brother’s funeral. It seems like that was a lifetime ago, and not mere months. My whole world has been thrown into fiery chaos. I’ve been brought kicking and screaming to the very bowels of hell, and forced to walk its ash-filled shores as I’ve lost grip on my sanity, and the one person who always kept me grounded. My Dinah, my Nightstar, my whole fucking world.
“I’m going to help you get my daughter back, free you both from the Order, and help you kill those two that took her away from you.” His words slither in my mind, much like the serpent’s voice must have done to Eve and Adam, when he tempted them to sin. There isn’t a single cell inside my battered body that trusts that devil. Hell, I’m not even sure that I wasn’t hallucinating the whole thing under duress. My mind is a broken place, filled with jagged edges, and more often than not lately, I can’t tell reality from my nightmares.
“I love you, Sammy. Come back to me.” Her voice calls out to me with such despair and pain that it forces my chest to constrict painfully, causing me to hiss out my breath. I hear quiet movement, as multiple feet make their way inside the room. I don’t bother to raise my head, and take a look at who my visitors are this time. It doesn’t really matter anymore. One rebel guard is the same as a Brotherhood guard. One monster, much like all the others. Liars. Murderers. Demons. Thieves. Everyone in this world wants something from me. The only thing that brings me an inkling of comfort is the knowledge that I have very little left to give. Soon, I will allow myself to perish in those fires that surround me, until I am but a lost memory to this earth. Samuel Wendover will go to his final death the same as when he took his first breath, a no-one that counted for nothing. Unwelcome. Unwanted. Discarded. Abandoned.
“Sammy,” her melodic voice calls out to me, so softly that I almost miss it. It sounds like a prayer to my non-believing ears. Not real, this is not real, she’s not here. Is she? I close my eyes, attempting to force air down my constricting throat, as my hands tighten at my sides, gripping the sheet below me for dear life. I can hear them shifting closer to the bed in the large suite, their boots on the floor a staccato that forces my rushing blood to meet the same beat. I can do this. I have to do this. I try to reassure myself, as I force my body to release some of its rigid tension. I’m a coiled snake waiting to jump up and strike. The question is, will my bite sting or kill the recipient? Will I even care if it does, or am I already too far gone for anything to matter?
I force myself to sit up, pushing my aching back against the solid wood headboard, and finally, I urge myself to get a glimpse of my Nightstar. Real, she’s real. Fuck. Even in her blood-stained and tattered dark clothes, covered in filth, cuts, and bruises, she’s still the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. It pains me physically to meet her gray-blue eyes, filled with so many turbulent emotions, emotions I used to understand. My Nightstar was always an open book to me, well, that is, until she discarded me. My mouth goes dry as those winter storm pupils trap me in their depths. Concern immediately races through my limbs at the bleeding wounds that are visible, and I have to forcefully remind myself not to reach out to her. She left you to die , my mind seethes with fury at how, with just one glance of her, she weakens all my resolve. She is a sickness that corrupts everything inside of me, a cancer twisting me back and forth, until I no longer know which way is up. I force my arms across my broad chest, even though the movement pains me, to prevent my feebleness from taking hold of me, and wrapping her in my arms. My heart wants what it cannot have, what it does not understand will kill us. Dinah.
Stay strong. She is not the woman you love. That woman died when we left our home. This is a liar, a manipulator, and if you allow her back in, she will be your end. It’s humorous to me that my mind is trying to convince me of something, and my heart is begging for the complete opposite. All my frail heart wants is to take her in my arms, kiss the shit out of her, and force the words out of her lips that affirm she never betrayed me, that she never once stopped loving me. Unfortunately, I am caught in the middle, not knowing or trusting which direction to take. If I am honest with myself, I’m not even sure this is really happening, and not a distorted fabrication of my trauma. Ezekiel’s previous words try to cut across my mind, but I force them away, because he’s lied and manipulated me in the past. If the specter is to be believed, he’s continued to do it all this time, his end game, my Nightstar, and control of her fortune and the Brotherhood. Let him have her; they deserve each other, and she is nothing to us now.
I pry my glance away from her sad expression, even though it pains me, and meet Abraham’s intense hazel gaze. The other one who used you, and took your Nightstar away. Kill him, he deserves to die. He’s looking at me with an unmasked expression of pity, as if I was some woeful animal dying before him. Is that what I am? I allow my eyes to trail over his large form, taking in the blood coating his skin, the wounds that are everywhere, and the stern, firm lips that refuse to speak. Nothing to say now, fucker? Why is that? Is it because you believe you have won? With a flick of my eyes, I turn my gaze to the other man at my Nightstar’s side. Ezekiel Rothesay. My arch nemesis, it seems. The man I have always had to share her with, whether he realized it or not. The man who continues to be an obstacle in my way. He’s leaning closer to her, his body situated in a protective stance as if, at any moment, I might jump out of this bed and attempt to hurt her. Doesn’t he realize that I don’t have to lift a finger to do that? Her love and despair are so prominent, and visible, on her features, that I know, with just a few words, I can inflict so much pain that it will have the same effect as a blade sliding into her pale flesh. My pretty, little Nightstar, you have forgotten the lessons I spent years teaching you: never reveal your weaknesses to an enemy. It pleases me to see her distraught, to see pain across her features, to know that if I am not imagining all of this, it’s me that’s causing it. She’s a whore, who spread her legs for them the first chance she got, moved on to something better, and left you to die.
“I see that my wishes have not been answered. The three of you are still breathing, like cockroaches that refuse to die, pity .“ Every word causes her to flinch, her face becoming more drawn and morose before my eyes. Her teeth bite down on her bottom lip, as she tries to stifle the pained sound that wishes to vacate her lips. Hurt her more; she deserves it. Kill her. Self-hate flows through my veins, knowing that I’m hurting her, but at the same time, I’ve convinced myself that it’s justified, for what she’s done to me. She deserves so much more. She deserves to suffer like you have. “You... you don’t mean that... please, Sammy.” Dinah moves to take a step forward in my direction, but Ezekiel grabs her forearm and pulls her back, taking her away from me once again. I growl in his direction, a furious animal being denied his kill by another predator.
“He will always try to keep her from you, and for himself. It’s the only way he can ensure his reign. He knows you are a threat to what he wants, that you have power over my daughter, something he lacks. You must humble him first before murdering him,” the specter demands in my ear.
Yes, I see it now; his words are true. Both of these men have always wanted to take what’s mine away from me. Regardless of whether they knew Dinah Camrose first, the person that she was before coming to me no longer existed. The one standing in my presence, with tears sliding down her bruised and desperate face, was molded by my rough hands. I have had all her firsts. I am the man her heart calls out to, and I refuse to be the man who releases her from my grip, not unless it’s to the devil when I end her life, and even then, I know it won’t be easy to let her go. Snap her deceiving neck. Do it now.
“You think to tell me what is inside of my heart, Nightstar? Are you so confident that you are still in that decrepit place?” I stare her down, refusing to flinch or back away, and allowing her to see all my anger and pain. All the pieces of me she allowed to be shattered, when she left me behind to die at a monster’s hands. Dirty cunt, liar, betrayer. Her head rises with an internal strength, and I watch as she pulls herself together, right before my very eyes. A wicked queen about to deal with her wayward subjects. That fire I still see lit within her brings a quirk to my lips. Nothing could ever keep her down for long, and woe to anyone who ever underestimated her, me included, it seems. “That heart you speak of, Sammy, it fucking belongs to me , and until I decide to reach inside of your goddamn chest and rip it out painfully, so it beats in the palm of my hands, it will continue to be mine . You don’t get to walk away from me, and you don’t get to keep breathing without me . You are mine , and you have forgotten yourself.”
The voices hissing inside of my head grow silent at her declaration of war. Make no mistake, that’s what that just was. There she is, finally, my warrior, the one I trained never to back down from a fight. She’s showing me her teeth like a lioness, ready to tear anyone who comes at her to pieces, and I had better be prepared to deal with her bite. She pushes away from Ezekiel without a backward glance, despite his look of displeasure at her actions, her stunning eyes filled with fire, never leaving mine. “I am sorry for what befell you, Samuel Wendover. I am regretful for my fucking part in getting you captured. I am devastated by what they did to you, and how you suffered.” Her fists tighten at her sides, until her bruised knuckles are white, in stark relief against the rest of her blood-tarnished skin.
“However, I am not apologizing for you still being alive. I did not give you leave to die, nor to leave me behind on this miserable, fucking earth!” She takes another few steps until her body is pressed against the side of the bed, and leans forward without the slightest hesitation or fear present that I’ll attack her. My brave little Nightstar. Her scent of amber, smoke, and bergamot calls to me in a siren’s song, mixed with the stench of death that coats her skin. “You tried to kill me, and you failed. You think taunting and hurting me will push me away? You dare to believe that I could have ever turned against you?” Her fingers rise, and just when I think she’s going to gently cradle my face, her fingernails dig into my jaw, forcing me closer. “You cannot live without me, no more than I can without you. You want to end my life because a monster has convinced you that I betrayed you? Well, here I am, do it, but know that you will follow me into perdition, my love. You cannot be parted from me, not in this life or the next.”
I can’t take my eyes off of her; she’s radiant in her fury. Her words are a declaration of love and war, each syllable calling to me like a lost lover, demanding to be reunited with my pain, and bring me to my knees. “You want me to believe that you still love me, Nightstar? You want me to accept that you didn’t abandon me to the misery of hell?” I lean forward, causing her to tighten her grip, until I feel the sharp pain of her nails splitting my skin. The pain forces my mind to remain in the here and now, not allowing all the tragic nightmares to drag me into the dark recesses of my mind. “Show me your reverence, Dinah. Show them who truly owns you. Prostrate yourself at my feet, crawl to me, Nightstar, and reveal how much you love me.”
The minute the demand leaves my lips, I know she won’t do it, that she will deny me once again. Perhaps she’ll end my worthless life, now that she’s witnessing how dark, depraved, and blackened my soul is, with all I have endured. I’ve gone too far in my attempt to humiliate and degrade her, asking her to weaken herself, and bare her soul to the world. I never break my gaze from her, inhaling a shuddering breath, and preparing myself to finally die with the solace that it will be the love of my life who finally dispatches me to my final resting place. I was always yours. I allow her to see the words imprinted in my soul through my gaze. Is this real? I hope that I am not imagining all of this. I need this to be reality, so that I can finally say goodbye to this world.
“Damn you to hell, Sammy. I will only ever be weak for you. You wish me to crawl, to confirm what is so evident before your eyes, fucking fine, I will crawl for you, but just know, after this, if you can’t accept me, I will end your fucking life.”