Chapter 16 Royce
ROYCE
“Scream for your life and tremble for me, as tonight will be your last.”
Standing in the darkness of the staircase, I watch Prince. His demeanor is stoic as rhymes flow freely from his poisoned lips. A crystal glass swirls an amber liquid before him, both hands free. His body is slouched, leather shoes resting on the coffee table and crossed at the ankles.
“Say it with me, my sweet sister. Scream for your life…” His voice trails off before coming back with a commanding, “And tremble for me! As tonight…” Leaning forward in the high-back chair, his white eyes meet mine, his tone changes, and each word is said with both purpose and hostility. “…will be your last.”
He knows.
He knows, and he isn’t going to make this easy.
“Ah, sweet brother, your words are always so comforting,” I toy sarcastically while his eyes glare upon me. Steadily, my feet brush each step, calmly, as I make my way to him.
Unamused, Prince returns his focus to his levitating beverage, reaching for it aggressively and taking a swig.
“You appear less damaged than the last time I saw you,” Prince states the obvious, baiting me into a battle of words, and I bite, because why not?
“And you look more deranged.”
Internally, I am giddy with pride; my confidence has returned, and a renewed sense of hope and purpose flows through my body.
“Yes, killing your boyfriend would do that to a person, don’t you think?” His words sting; the pain attempts to overtake me once more, but I resist it because I am not that wounded girl anymore.
Throwing his glass against the dark wallpaper, whatever contents remain splash out as the crystal shatters upon impact.
Being brave, I inch forward onto the shag rug before I’m startled by his sudden movement.
His feet hit the ground as his body rises.
“I don’t need to be a fucking mind reader to know.
Your face tells me everything.” Prince takes calculated steps forward until his body towers over me, an intimidation tactic I am all too familiar with.
“Plus your eyes are fucking glowing.” His head tilts, examining me, but I don’t cower. “Did your mommies come to save you?”
Ignoring him, my gaze meets his, challenging his dominance. And much to my delight, the corner of his mouth twitches in frustration. Come on, Prince, give me everything you’ve got, I am fucking ready. I challenge him wordlessly while smugly smiling back at him.
Prince tilts his head down, his white hair falling onto his forehead and the tip of his nose brushing against my forehead, while his lips whisper. “Have you ever wanted to get lost in someone so badly you’d kill for it?” His breath reeks of alcohol, and his breathing becomes heavier.
Shaking my head in response, I plainly state, “No.” Because it’s the truth.
With Beckham, it wasn’t about him being my possession or obsession or vice versa. It wasn’t about getting lost in him or seeking refuge for a few hours before returning to this hell.
He was my home. I needed him like oxygen. Our hearts would reconnect the moment our eyes met, and our souls longed for one another when apart.
I would kill for him.
But not because of him.
Prince raises his hand, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear, and his cock hardens behind his trousers as his body presses against mine. “You were made to hurt, never love.”
Seductively, I lick my lips, never breaking eye contact, and whisper back, “And you will always be a fucking child, throwing a tantrum when he doesn’t get what he wants.”
Through gritted teeth, Prince growls, which only continues to bring me great joy.
His cock gets harder against me, and I reach down to cup it, squeezing it tight between my fingers.
Hissing, his exposed chest presses against mine.
“I love destroying you. Breaking you. Consuming your every thought. Now, why don’t you show me your new magic trick? ”
My teeth nip his lip, tugging it, piercing through the thin skin until I taste crimson on my tongue. I apply more pressure before releasing him, swiping my exposed teeth with my tongue, taunting him, baiting him.
Squeezing his dick harder, his body jolts in response, and his closed fist slams against the wall behind me.
Prince is reaching his limit, the ability to keep himself restrained teetering.
He is on the brink. Composure is beginning to break, much to my delight, and my own heart races with excitement.
I’ve never held the power when it comes to him, but now I do, and I am never giving it back.
His Adam’s apple bobs, and a piece of me wonders how hard it would be to grasp it and pull it out. How sadistic of me, but I hold no shame; I fucking love it.
“Why aren’t you fighting me?”
I laugh devilishly. “Perhaps I already am,” I tease cryptically, and Prince doesn’t like it. His next statement is meant to provoke, and I love how desperate he is for me to initiate the end, “Your eyes are mine, forever inked into my skin, etched on my bone from now until forever. I own you.”
Taking a page out of his book, I muster the courage and spit on his chest. The fist once against the wall is now wrapped tightly around my neck.
Squeezing his dick, I remind him who is really in fucking control.
Prince’s nostrils flare, and my hold over him doesn’t make a difference because in one fluid motion, the back of my head bounces off the wall as he pushes me backward.
We have returned to familiar habits.
His free hand cups my pussy through my dress, and my blood boils while my fingertips warm. Glancing down quickly, the purple glow is back, but I remain composed.
“Your eyes always burn so bright for me, baby.” If I thought I could, I would launch him through the walls. Only one person can call me baby, and it’s not him. But his words, which sting and enrage, don’t end, “And I’ll slowly skin his mark off your leg, layer by fucking layer, baby.”
Pent-up rage is no longer contained, and I have minimal control and awareness over what comes next. Releasing his cock, both hands rise, while faintly I hear him chuckling as I feel my eyes closing, but this time it’s not him forcing it; I am.
“For I am just a vessel which you will never crack. May you live or die with great regret. With turning black clouds and tornado winds, lightning strikes when only one wins. And no one will ever save you.” The omen dances off my tongue, and as I spit the word you, my eyes flash open.
Prince releases me from his hold, stepping back in amazement with hands raised in surrender, but he’s far too late.
My body rises, and my feet hover off the ground.
A crack of lightning sends chills up my spine. It’s time.
Looking down at the pathetic sight, a large, bright dome surrounds me, acting like a shield or barrier. Then, everything begins to move in slow motion, and it’s captivatingly beautiful.
Still in denial, Prince shouts, “I can never die.” His eyes glow wide with hate and anger, not yet accepting defeat.
Shaking arms move before me, and my own scream joins his as a large burst of energy releases from my hands, hitting Prince in the chest. His feet are lifted off the ground, and the force of the impact throws him against the far wall. His body, weak, drops to the ground.
My screaming stops, and the tension increases as his body begins to move. On shaking legs, he rises, using the wall for balance. A black burn mark decorates his exposed chest, and his Adam’s apple bobs with each deep swallow.
“Coward,” I taunt. My voice has become much deeper than I am used to due to the slow-motion effects. But I don’t fight it, allowing whatever has taken over me to be. Prince sees it as an opportunity, making an attempt to catch me off guard and charging at me before springing into the air.
His shoulder braces on one side, ready to spear me.
And as he hits my shield, it reacts, and nothing could have predicted its response.
My arms, which are still reached out, move to either side of my body, and my chest is pulled forward, rising high as he collides.
Bright purple hues illuminate the space as my body trembles. And the house begins to turn to rubble.
The ceiling cracks slowly, and I watch, captivated, before breaking off and plunging to the ground. Dust particles float, and they look like floating stars.
Focusing, I am giving all I have to give.
Tears run down my cheeks because I’m scared, and this is overwhelming.
The powers which guide me are from my mothers; therefore, I don’t fight it.
I allow it to keep going until it cannot anymore.
But it still scares me, not understanding what I am capable of, but I need to trust they would not lead me astray or give me something I could not handle.
Glancing around once more, looking for him, I notice small fires have started. With shaking arms, I feel the energy draining out of me, and time speeds up. My body weakens, but I don’t give up. I don’t stop until it’s ready too.
With a final scream, a Hail Mary, and a final burst flows out of me, and a bright white flash is all I see, until tiny flutters surround me.
The magnificent moth has returned. Which means someone is about to die. Perhaps it is me?
The light vanishes, and I tumble to the ground.
Then my vision fades to black.
Heavy eyes slowly open.
My throat dry, I cough, only to breathe in more smoke and dust. Ears ring as I glance around.
My eyes blink slowly while my brain attempts to register what it’s seeing.
Lying here moments longer, I decide to rise.
Rolling from my back to my stomach, I shake my hair, and more dust begins to float around me, causing me to sneeze.
Adjusting my body to all fours, I slowly stand still, confused about the current state of where I am… Where am I?
With a furrowed brow, I look down, and my dress is torn and tattered, barely covering the important parts.
Walking through the rubble, it’s time to explore, my frazzled mind decides.
With each step, I keep analyzing the rubble around me.
Confused, I am unable to comprehend how I have ended up here.
With each step, pieces of debris embed themselves into the pads of my feet.
Flashing red and blue lights catch my attention, and I tilt my head, curious, while the ringing in my ears continues.
Looking up, the night sky surrounds us. I allow myself to be captivated by it until I am rudely interrupted.
Startled, voices echo. Looking down, my eyes squint while everything races back, flooding my mind. I let out a deep exhale.
“Ma’am, please come with me,” are the first words I hear. A warm blanket follows, being thrown over my shoulders.
“You have been in a horrible accident. You are okay,” another voice reassures me. My ankles twist, and I nearly trip while gripping my blanket, and a strong hand grasps my arm to steady me.
Then I stop.
Everyone who is frantic around me watches, not moving. They wait in anticipation, brows raised as my curious mind questions.
“How long has it been?”
A man with a fireman’s jacket flutters toward me. Reading his badge, I note it says Fire Chief Terry. “Please, we must get you to the hospital,” he insists.
Shaking my head, I decline. “No. Tell me, how long has it been?”
Nobody listens, and bodies resume moving. The man gripping my arm continues to pull me forward even though I resist.
Screaming, as tears flow freely and the adrenaline crash washes over, I say, “Someone answer me!”
Everyone stills, Terry looks petrified, but he responds cautiously. “What do you last remember?”
Squinting, I search my brain for the answer. Beckham coming in me inside the dirty yellow-and-red tent flashes in my head.
“Fright Night.”
Terry looks pained.
“Weeks, miss. Weeks.”