Chapter 25
MORRIGAN
Inever expected screams to be as satisfying as Aamon’s were, and I wondered if this was the sick pleasure that Cain derived from my injuries.
Did he feel the same thrill as I did when I cut into Aamon, returning the pain they had both inflicted on me for more days than I could count?
It would never be enough. Even as I dug the blade deeper, none of this would truly make up for what they had done to me.
I knew Tristan knew that. My mother knew that.
But I didn’t care. I wanted him to hurt.
I wanted him to feel as helpless as I did in those tunnels.
This was the third time I had visited him, and I thought I would have been tired of it by now, but I was beginning to look forward to our time together.
I paused with the knife still in my hand, digging into his skin. I look forward to this, I thought to myself, and felt a small twist of shame sinking into my gut.
Aamon was mumbling something beneath his gag, and I decided to remove it so he could speak. When I did, most of his words came out in a snarling growl.
“You can cut me all you want, but it won’t remove the stain I left on you, and you know that. It won’t heal the dark spot we drove into that pure little heart of yours.”
I rolled my eyes, shoving away the invasive empathy I had almost allowed myself to feel, and walked back to the tray.
“You’ll always be stuck there—in that cage… in that cell. So, torture me all you want, little bird. I may be dead, but the memory of me will remain attached to your soul like a leech until the day that you die. That’s good enough for me.”
“Stop talking, Aamon,” I said quietly, trying to tune him out. Two more days, I reminded myself. Two more days, and you can kill him.
Then, I heard the sound of metal shifting… falling. When I turned around, Aamon had just rolled over the side of the table and stood slowly.
How did the chains come undone?!
With a menacing smile, he took in a staggering breath. “Let’s see how tough you are now, little bird.”
My breath hitched in my chest, and I only had a second to grab the other blade before he ran at me.
I quickly circled the table and ducked just as he launched a fist toward my head.
Using my foot, I struck his knee and made him lose his balance as I pulled myself up with the table and raced toward the cell doors.
But before I reached the iron, a hand fisted my hair and pulled back. Then, he slammed my face into the stone wall, and I felt blood trickle down from my nose.
“You’re still weak,” he hissed in my ear. “I think I’ll take what’s mine this time.”
He reached a hand down to my hip, tugging at my pants and yanking them down. I struggled as hard as I could, trying to feel for my fire, but my anxiety made it ten times as hard.
“Shhh,” he chuckled, pulling my head back and slamming it once more against the stone, causing stars to dance in my vision. “I just want a taste.”
“Fuck you! I’m not your fucking bird anymore!
” I reached back and wrapped my hand around his wrist, squeezing my eyes shut as his foot pushed my legs apart.
Finally, I found the flame and forced it to blaze into a scorching fire.
Just as I heard the sound of his pants shifting around, I spread the heat through my hand until Aamon screamed in pain and yanked his wrist back.
Once he was far enough away, I turned around and stepped out of the pants that had fallen to my feet. There was no point in fixing them now. Instead, I picked up the dagger that had fallen from my hand and gripped its hilt tight enough to turn my knuckles white.
The burn on Aamon’s hand was spreading. It was beginning to cover his arm, and he gaped at me in horror as he continued moving backward.
“I’m not weak, Aamon,” I seethed, making a slow approach. “But you? You are nothing. You will not be remembered. You and every fucking memory of your existence will die in this room, Aamon!”
“Mo-Morrigan,” Aamon stuttered, tripping over his own feet as he tried to retreat.
I could already see the glow in my eyes as his lit up in a bright, orange reflection.
“I can help you! I can tell you where to find—”
“Stop talking!” I screamed. A burst of air blew through the room and shoved Aamon back the rest of the way, hitting the opposing wall where he slid down to the floor.
“Please, Morrigan,” he continued. “I was following orders.”
I felt them as they left me, but I didn’t even know how I did it.
Strings of fiery light seemed to erupt from my body like whips, wrapping around his limbs and holding him down so that he couldn’t move.
Wherever my fire touched his skin, small black vines began to spread, searing his body. It looked excruciatingly painful.
Good.
I placed one leg over him, straddling his hips as I lowered myself onto his body. I gripped his hair, yanking it back to angle his head up at me. I wanted to laugh in his face. The man who once looked down on me, forcing my silence, to take what he wanted. What sweet irony this is.
His screams curdled my blood as my hand burned into his scalp, and he clawed at my wrist, leaving scratches behind that I could barely feel in the moment.
“We were prisoners there! All of us! I didn’t have a choice—”
Before he had the chance to finish his sentence, I shoved the dagger in an upward motion, piercing below his jaw, until it sliced through his tongue.
“I said you talk too much, Aamon,” I hissed, pulling it back out and letting my flames wrap themselves around the hilt.
They made their slow crawl up the metal until the entire blade was illuminated with fire. “It’s your turn to be silent now.”
I drove the dagger into his throat, and blood spurted out, splattering all over me. But I didn’t turn away. I watched as his burned hands reached up to cover the wound, though they began crumbling into ash and fell apart. He started coughing up blood as his body spasmed.
“I will never mutter your name again. No one will. No one will mourn you, Aamon,” I whispered to him, standing and giving his body a single kick to push him to the ground. Flames enveloped him, and his body convulsed for a couple more seconds before going completely still.
I stared for a couple of minutes, not really knowing how much time had passed. It wasn’t long before his limbs turned to ash, and his entire body crumbled to the floor.
“Well, well, well…” a voice called from the hallway.
I looked up to see Malakai stepping through the bars, and he leaned against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He had a smile on his face as he eyed the puddle of blood, and then the blood that covered my chest, shirt, and legs.
“I’d say you handled that quite well. That’s a good look for you, by the way.
” He flashed his canines in a cocky smile.
“How do you feel? A lot better than just torturing him on a table, I’d bet. ”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Why is he here? Or better yet, How did Aamon get out of his chains? “You did that, didn’t you?” I asked him.
He shrugged like it was no big deal that he released a man that absolutely could have ended my life if I hadn’t been training so hard with the two of them.
“You underestimate yourself, princess. I watch you while we train. I see your strength.” He pushed off of the door, walking toward me and plucking the blade from my hand. “The real question is, why don’t you?”
Lifting the blade to his mouth, he licked the blood clean off of it, and his eyes closed as a soft hum vibrated from his throat.
“You’re insane,” I told him. Though, not nearly with as much anger as there should have been.
When his eyes opened again, the icy grey color seemed to glisten back at me. “Aren’t we all?” he asked. A wide grin stretched his face, and he laughed again. “Go on. Get cleaned up. I’ll take care of this room for you.”
I didn’t have the mind to argue, I was still coming out of the daze I had been forced into. My skin buzzed with energy again, and I needed to walk it off. Leaving my pants behind, I left the cell and walked up the stairs, peeking around the wall to make sure Azrael was nowhere in sight.
I made it all the way to my room, when I noticed the door had been opened. I stepped inside and saw Tristan sitting on the edge of my bed. He looked up at me, lifting a piece of bathing cloth in his hand. “I heard,” he said calmly. “I’ve already warmed the bath.”
Just the sight of him had the heat in my veins shifting, moving to a… different area. My skin still itched from everything that had just happened. Without thinking, I approached Tristan until I stood before him.
“I’ll punish Malakai. He never should have done that. He did not have my permission to—”
“Touch me,” I whispered, spreading my legs over his lap and climbing on top of him.
“What?” he asked, surprise lifting his voice.
I couldn’t stop myself. My body begged for relief, with my mind swirling and fire still rushing throughout my body. “I need it, Tristan. I need you.”
This is so wrong, Morrigan. You can’t seriously ask him to—
His hands found my hips, and my lips fell onto his. The second we kissed, everything in my mind quieted. No more worry, no more adrenaline.
Just fire and darkness molding themselves together as his own arousal washed over me.
“Are you sure?” he asked gruffly, digging his fingers into my waist as I grinded my hips against him. He let out a breathy groan, but stopped me for a moment. “Your emotions are high right now, Morrigan. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
When I pulled back from him, I stared into his eyes. With my finger, I traced the black markings that went through one of them, drawing lines over the side of his face and down to his neck. Then, I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him until he laid flat on his back.
“I need this,” I whispered, climbing over him and planting kisses along his collarbone.
“What do you need?” His question came out breathless, and his fingers moved to the buttons of my shirt as he slowly undid them, exposing my breasts to him.
"To let go.”
As I shrugged off the shirt, Tristan moved to his pants and began pushing them down his hips. He kicked them off and laid back, his eyes trailing over my chest in a way that made me feel wanted… desired…
The way his cheeks flushed as he gazed at my body gave me a kind of power that I never knew I had.
“I’m yours, Morrigan,” he whispered.