Thirty-One
Varos
Avalon had done so well. She’d been able to withstand Troy’s blood, even restraining herself from tasting it. He couldn’t express how proud he was of her, and what this meant for him. After turning her, he’d been terrified that he’d taken her true self from her. But she was more herself and stronger than she’d ever been.
“Ready for a little fun?” Marcus asked, brushing past him and down the stairs.
Avalon was cuddled up with Lysander, letting him pamper her with blood and pleasure. Her dampened moans followed them into the cellar. After leaving the dungeon herself, she’d given them full reign over Troy’s fate. He’d served his purpose.
He wasn’t the violent type, but he was itching to see what Marcus had in store. When they stepped in, Troy barely had the energy to flinch. He leaned against the doorframe as Marcus pulled the limp body up by the ropes tied to his wrists.
“I don’t think you’ll have much fun with him after all.”
Shrugging it off, Marcus ran his free fingers over Avalon’s writing. “I was going to feed him, but it would destroy her masterpiece.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. ”
Marcus tipped his head, watching that shadow of a man twirl on the rope, no fight left in him. “You’re right. This was far too easy.” Marcus slashed his wrist with his fangs and pressed the wound against the man’s mouth. He took one big step, pinning Troy between his own body and the brick. Once he’d tasted the deliciousness of Marcus’s blood, Troy sucked eagerly. After surviving on scraps, pain, and fear, that blood was probably like liquid heaven. He even tried to chase Marcus when he pulled away.
Marcus laughed, letting Troy fall to the ground. He caught himself with a newfound strength, eyes still dazed from the high. Marcus didn’t let him enjoy it very long, landing a blow to his jaw. The sickening crack echoed through the room. The sound seemed to be music to Marcus’s ears, igniting his devilish side. He grinned and his eyes sparkled. His next blow crushed the man’s ribs, shattering them into pieces that pierced the skin and deformed his thorax. His blood-curdling screams rattled the walls.
Marcus didn’t stop until the man was dead. Blood splattered the walls, the shape in front of him no longer resembling a human. Troy’s skull was cracked in half, skin flapping weakly over organs it was supposed to protect.
“I’m assuming you’ll be cleaning this?” he asked, stepping up next to his friend and inspecting the corpse.
“The only part I hate.”
“I’m sure Avalon would appreciate it.” Then he turned and went upstairs, satisfied that the bastard got the ending he deserved.
As he passed Lysander’s room, Avalon caught his attention. “I’m thirsty,” she whispered. “But I can’t bring myself to move him.”
Lysander was curled up in her lap, his head on her thigh and his large arms wrapped around her lower leg. He chuckled to himself and returned to her a few moments later with a glass to quench her thirst and a book to keep her mind occupied. She set both aside and pulled him down beside her, planting a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek.
A few days later, they were packing their bags, Avalon quite overwhelmed with everything they’d bought her. She sat amongst the shopping bags she hadn’t dared to touch since they’d arrived. But now that Marcus had ripped off the price tags, she felt more daring.
“We can pack everything and you can try things on when we get there,” he suggested.
“But what if I don’t like the way they fit? We won’t be able to return them if we wait too long.”
Marcus crooked a brow, and Varos intercepted whatever stupid comment he’d been ready to make. “Then why don’t we donate it? Someone already ripped off the tags as it is.”
Marcus snickered from the corner.
Gazing over the ocean of new clothes surrounding her, Avalon slowly nodded. “Okay.” Then she looked up at her men, furrowing her eyebrows. “What are you three taking with us?”
“You.” Marcus answered without hesitation.
“Me? Just me?”
“What else would I ever need?”
Avalon gazed between the men, worrying her bottom lip.
“I believe Marcus mentioned all we need,” Lysander confirmed.
“You don’t have a favourite sweater or anything you want to take? Or are those things you detach from over the years?”
“I did,” Varos admitted softly, making his way through the piles around her and taking care not to step on anything. He sat behind her and pulled her into his lap. “Humans are trained to accumulate all these possessions: the most fashionable clothes, the newest car, a beautiful house. But when the years drag on and you can have everything you’ve ever dreamed of, your values shift. I’m not saying that they are wrong, but when you’ve bought everything that money can buy, you cherish the things you can’t: friendship, love, happiness.”
Avalon leaned into him, face tilted back to look at him. “Are you happy?”
“I am.”
“I think I am too.” She sighed and shook her head looking back down and fidgeting with the shirt in her hands. “I mean, I am in certain ways. I’m happy to be with you—all of you. But I’m still trying to be okay with the creature I am now. It’s odd to describe because I’m over the moon to be here, but scared of myself and what is to come. It sounds ungrateful…” She trailed off.
Lysander and Marcus knelt in front of her, Lysander taking her hand in his. “You’re not ungrateful. Your world has been flipped upside down and now you are trying to fit the pieces back together—plus some. It will take time.”
“Good thing you have plenty of it,” Marcus assured her, brushing his knuckles along her cheekbone. “You’ve been doing wonderfully, taking it all in and discovering it all little steps at a time.”
“I’m excited but still so nervous, but it helps knowing that you three will be by my side.”
They all leaned in, Marcus and Lysander kissing her cheeks while he kissed her hair.
She was their whole world.