Chapter 20 Nyx #2
The grip on my chest tightens, pulling me towards the void by some invisible thread.
No.
It’s nothing more than a fleeting thought, but the tension vanishes, leaving my chest aching.
A tendril breaks from the darkness and slithers up my reflection—a snake made of shadow. Unlike the ones before, this one has presence as it twines between my legs, around my stomach, and across my breasts to circle my throat.
I don’t know if this is real.
It could be all in my head.
It probably is all in my head.
There’s no reason why this should feel…
Familiar.
I know this thing in the darkness.
It knows me.
And it’s been waiting.
I feel the shadow snake brush across my lips even as I stare into the darkness of my reflection.
It retreats down my body, tracing my shoulders, my spine, and running between my legs again.
Slowly, the ache in my chest eases, yet I remain captive in this infinite moment, gaze locked on the mirror.
The black fabric of the hood ripples when I feel the warmth of a soft exhale on my skin, as if whatever’s looking back at me has finished some great task.
Beneath the glittering cape, that ancient thing lurking in the depths of endless night… smiles.
I can’t see it.
I can feel it.
And I smile back.
The thunder of my heartbeat pulsing once more shatters the silence in my mind.
But here in this room, the silence is deafening.
Everyone’s looking at me, I realize.
“Girl,” Brynne gasps in awe. Lisette’s smug as fuck. Tori and Evie are wearing identical maniacal smiles.
I suddenly feel very, very uncomfortable. Exposed. “What?”
“If you don’t wear that dress, I’ll never forgive you,” Evie states.
“Seconded,” Tori chimes in.
Brynne chuckles, running her hand down the glittering cape. “Fuck, I’ll wear it if you don’t.”
“Absolutely not,” Lisette bats her hand away. “I chose these dresses specifically for each of you, and they are perfect, no?”
Mollified, Brynne steps back and joins the other two.
“I can’t wear this.” But the protest feels empty as it falls from my lips. I run my fingers over the beaded fabric, tracing the lines of fabric that wrap around my stomach and hips. Following the echos of the shadow snake’s trail as it wound around my body, its weight imprinted in my skin.
“Why not?” Tori asks, reminding me that I’m practically feeling myself up in front of them.
“Well, I’m not going, for one.”
Evie scoffs. “Yeah you are.”
“Why the hell would I go to a party where everyone hates me?” I glare at her in the reflection.
“We don’t hate you, and we’ll be going.” Tori’s words make me still. They’re so reminiscent of my first day, before everything went tits up.
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why don’t you hate me like everyone else?” I look at Tori, then flick my eyes to Evie and Brynne. The question is to all of them, really.
She gives me a small, tenuous smile when our eyes meet again. “You helped me realize that I don’t want to be someone who others apologize for.”
There’s an awkward silence before Lisette clears her throat. “Are we ready for accessories?” That jolts the girls into movement once more, letting the heaviness of that fleeting moment between us pass.
Lisette assures me I don’t need anything with this dress, save for some high heels since its would be crime to alter the hem for my height.
Three hours later, she assures us that all four dresses, shoes, and accessories will be delivered to Maeve’s shop on campus where we can get any last minute adjustments made.
“Any place to get a drink around here?” I groan as we leave Lisette’s shop, burnt out by the last twenty-four hours and shivering in the cold evening air as the daylight fades. Even if this small town doesn’t have a dispensary, there must be somewhere to get a little fucked up.
“Oh let’s go to Wyckd!” Brynne suggests.
Apparently it’s some sort of dance-club-pub combo—not quite big enough to be a club, not small enough to be bar.
At this point, I’m too exhausted to care, so they lead the way and soon we’re entering the pub portion of the building.
There are tables, booths, and live edge bar top that looks like it was taken from a single—fucking huge—tree.
Except behind this one, there’s row and rows of colorful bottles that go nearly up to the ceiling.
There’s literally top shelf liquor, and I can’t help but chuckle.
Daly’s never had any of this shit, but the familiar sights, sounds, and smells are strangely comforting: that hoppy scent in the air combined with notes of citrus and mint garnishes.
The clamor of conversation that grows louder as the evening progresses and the alcohol keeps flowing.
I feel more at home here than I have my entire time on campus.
Maybe they’re hiring.
“Over here!” Evie calls out, leading us through throngs of people and tables to a corner booth with a view of the dance floor side. There’s even a little hook for our coats which I’m thankful for when the warm air quickly becomes stifling.
A waitress takes our orders, and soon I’m feeling more relaxed than I have in weeks listening to the others talk as I sip my beer.
Brynne buys us a round of shots. Then Tori, and Evie.
And I feel guilty for not wanting to spend any more of my stipend after spending god-knows-what on that dress, but with everything they’ve done for me—like friends do—it’s the least I can do to buy the next round.
The room spins a little when I stand and make my way to the restrooms as my bladder demands, before ordering more shots.
There’s no trace of that darkness when I look in the mirror this time.
Just Nyx Byrke, except now her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are hooded. She looks like she’s having fun.
Is that really me?
Huh.
I chat with the bartender while he pours our drink, and ask if they have any job openings.
The large space seems to be nearing capacity as more students flock to the siren song of alcohol and dancing.
There are a few faces I recognize from my classes, but they don’t pay me any mind, too absorbed in their own little worlds.
It’s strange thing, to be surrounded by so many others and yet feel alone as I observe the life happening around me.
Like I’m looking in from the outside, separated by a pane of glass that makes everything gleam.
I continue to scan the crowd, startling when I see the Heirs and their worshippers sitting at a booth in the opposite corner.
They’re holding court once again—Lyra and Cynthia are fawning over Killian and Luther, the latter silent and scowling like usual, while the former is laughing at whatever the girls just said.
Roth is sitting to their right, making the simple worn leather bench look like a throne as Calanthe prattles on across from him.
Thane is to his right, head tilted back, with a steady stream of smoke trailing from the vape in his mouth.
My buzz practically evaporates.
God damnit.
I can’t stop staring.
This is the first time I’ve seen them outside of campus, and I can’t help but catalogue every movement, every laugh in this stolen moment, safe from the looming threat of being perceived. Tonight, in this place, in this crowd, I’m nobody.
I’m invisible.
When the bartender finishes our drinks, I leave a generous tip in thanks before making my way back to our booth.
By the time I slide in next to Brynne, our food order has been delivered, and my buzz slowly returns with the latest round of shots.
I find myself blurting out the question that’s been bothering me for weeks now.
“What is their deal, anyways?”
“Who?”
“The Heirs,” I drawl, and gesture in their direction. “Don’t they ever take a night off from all that?”
Brynne chuckles while stuffing a mozzarella stick into her mouth. “Never. That’s their entire purpose in life.”
“With their parents on the Dark Council and High Council, they’re modern day royalty, basically,” Evie shrugs but Brynne rolls her eyes.
“You say that like you aren’t right there with them.”
“Wait, what?” I ask, looking between Evie and Tori.
Tori winces a little when our eyes meet. “Our mother is the Witch representative on both councils. And our coven matriarch.”
“So, how come they’re assholes and you’re not?”
“All the demonic dynasties are obsessed with bloodlines. They want to make each generation stronger than the last until they’re like, uber-demons or something. It’s glorified dog breeding.” Evie sneers.
Tori sighs. “I feel bad for them.” Her admission almost makes me inhale my drink.
“You fucking what now?” I gape at her, incredulous.
She shrugs. “Yeah. I mean I can only imagine the pressure they’re under. Hard to grow up under all that expectation.”
“Oh poor little princes, all powerful in their ivory towers,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Don’t forget, with more money than God,” Brynne adds, knocking my elbow as she downs her beer.
“I’m serious!” Tori insists. “They’ve basically got their whole lives laid out for them. A gilded cage is still a cage.”
“See how they’re sitting over there?” Evie nods. “How Calanthe is closest to Roth, Lyra is hanging all over Killian, and Cynthia is trying her best to get between Thane and Luther?”
“Yeah? So?”
“Everything is calculated. Lyra is gunning hard for Killian, so she’s trying to lay claim to him publicly because her cousins are also gunning for them and she wants him all to herself, but he’s not touching her back which means he’s not claiming her in return.
Cynthia’s getting touchy-feely with both Thane and Luther, probably angling to hook up with one of them and make the other jealous—you know, because she’s the Legacy of Envy?
The fact that Calanthe’s sitting so close to Roth and he’s not trying to light her hair on fire means he can’t, for some reason.
Bet you anything it’s because their families are trying to set them up. ”
“So the rich and powerful stay rich and powerful, what else is new?”
“But can you imagine what it’s like to live like that?
Where everyone’s watching every move you make?
” Tori asks. The thought never occurred to me, honestly.
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be invisible that if I was suddenly in the spotlight, I’d probably spontaneously combust. I shudder at the thought and finish the rest of my drink.
After two more rounds of shots to finally loosen up enough to follow the others out to the dance floor where I’m pulled into the throng of swaying bodies.
It feels like I’m floating as the house music drowns out everything around me, silencing the insidious voices tells me I’m not good enough and never will be. Quieting the cruel whispers I hear late at night, preying on my doubts. Here in the dark, I can lose myself without becoming lost.
As I move to the beat, eyes closed, head tilted up, I imagine the shadow snake again, only this time the exploratory touches have turned to teasing caresses.
I imagine the slow slide of its weight moving from my shoulders to rest around my hips.
Those caresses become more insistent until I’m dancing with them instead of the music, letting the pressure guide my body.
And it feels so fucking good to just let go.
I’m not Nyx anymore.
I’m free.
The pressure drifts up my stomach, between my breasts, and around my throat. My head tilts back in response, and a light brush against my lips makes me open my eyes slightly, only to find darkness.
“Close your eyes,” the darkness whispers, and I obey, because I know this darkness.
Warmth engulfs me from behind, sliding across my stomach and igniting an ache between my legs that demands attention, bereft from the earlier teasing.
Pressure trails upward from my waist until my neck is held steady and the shadow touches my lips again, but this time it’s warm.
Soft.
Gentle.
And then, it’s not.
The darkness demands entrance, exploring, imploring, and I’m only too happy to surrender when I’m pulled into a tight embrace as the shadow winds around me.
But I’m not scared.
I’m safe in the darkness.
Nothing can hurt me here.
When I whimper as my body sinks further into that warmth, the deep rumble that answers is the only sound that cuts through the pounding music pulsing through the air, mesmerizing me. My hips undulate, and soon I’m dancing in the dark, desperate to get closer, aching for more.
I want to be consumed.
I reach up behind me, pulling the darkness closer until finally, finally, that warm pressure descends between my legs, right where I want.
Where I need.
“Say yes,” the darkness whispers once more.
Nothing can hurt me here.
“Yes,” I answer.
The kiss turns hard, brutal, and I’m swept away, lost to the promise of pleasure as the pressure turns painful.
It’s not enough.
When I whimper, the darkness abandons the kiss, leaving a trail of warmth down my neck.
“What do you need?”
“More.”
“Then take it.”
The challenge laid, I do the only thing I can, riding the edge of pain and pleasure until the darkness swallows my moan as I fall to pieces.
When I surface from the haze of my orgasm, eyes adjusting to the riotous flashes of light, it’s to find Thane’s eyes boring into mine. Despite the darkness, despite the writhing bodies on the dance floor between us, he sees me.
One blue eye glowing, just like the other day, transfixed on me as the world moves around us like ghosts in the shadows.
But I’m safe in the darkness.
Nothing can hurt me here.
When my hips start moving to the pulse of music once more, I let him watch.
The dance turns into something just for him.
Something secret.
For a few stolen moments in the dark, a powerless witch and the last Leviathan are bound together by an invisible thread, stretched across time and space.
The only question is who will blink first.