Chapter 48 #2
He pauses, wrapping a hand around my neck and bringing my lips to his. He kisses me. Just once. But my whole world turns upside down at the action. “This is real. This is what I want.”
I close my eyes, sighing deeply. He may have changed his mind, but that does little to suppress the emotion warring inside me.
The feelings of brokenness, unworthiness.
He may think he wants this, but only pain and destruction follow me.
He’d be better off walking away and never coming back. They both would.
“I can’t let you do this,” I whimper. “You think you want me, but you don’t know what you’re signing up for.”
He presses his lips to my forehead, humming softly. “Angel, no one lets me do anything. I’m the one in control here.” He leans in so close that I can feel the heat of his breath against the shell of my ear. “That is, if you’ll have me.”
And before I can answer, he’s pulling away. “And I’m not sure how you got it into your mind that you're some sort of curse or blight. That anyone could ever not want you. But you better believe I will be correcting that thought process. Right now.”
Sterling's hands hook under my arms, lifting me and spinning me till I’m straddling him. He guides us backwards on the bed—him leaning against the headboard, and me on my hands and knees over him.
“Do you remember that word, Angel?” Sterling's silver irises glow up toward me, hopeful and understanding. “The one I told you to use if things get too intense.”
I nod.
“Call it out for Zeke here. Say it loud and proud.”
“Arcane.” But my voice is quiet, shameful.
He winks at me anyways, proud. I hear the soft clinking of Zeke’s belt buckle, the slide of the leather through belt loops as he pulls it off.
“Now I’m going to ask you to repeat after me.
And depending on how well you obey, you’ll either be rewarded—” Zeke trails his fingers over the curve of my ass in the air, hiking up my skirt until the chilled air is biting into my skin.
He yanks my underwear to the side, running his fingers over my slit.
“Or punished,” he finishes, his fingers gone in an instant.
The hard leather of his belt whips through the air and I yelp when it comes in contact with the flesh of my ass, a searing sting radiating through my skin.
I fall against Sterling, and he holds me, stroking my hair reassuringly before guiding me back into position.
“Ready to begin?” Zeke’s voice is a little too cheery at the prospect of getting to spank me, and I have half a mind to say so. But he beats me to it, his words rolling off his tongue with ease. “I am wanted.”
My stomach plummets. I swallow hard, biting my lip.
“Say it, Angel.” Sterling’s voice is soft, kind.
There’s understanding in his eyes, but I can’t bring myself to say the words the way I know they want.
Because if this week has proven anything—hells, if my life has proven anything—it’s that I am entirely unwanted.
That something is fundamentally wrong with me. Fundamentally unlovable.
The belt whizzes through the air again, landing with a sickening crack that has me stifling a pained sob.
“Lack of a response will earn you a punishment as well.” Zeke pauses. “Suppose I should have specified that ahead of time.” He runs his hand over the spot he hit, soothing the sting. “Now, I will ask you again to repeat after me. I am wanted.”
Sterling looks at me pleadingly. With the position we're in, I can’t avoid his penetrating gaze.
And I realize that’s part of the reason they maneuvered me like this.
I open my mouth to say what they want, knowing in my heart I don’t believe it.
“I—” I stutter, my voice failing. The hesitation is enough for Zeke to bring his belt down on me a third time.
I don’t even try to stifle the cry I let out, the burning pain taking over my entire body.
“Like you actually believe it, Angel. Or not at all.”
Tears swell past my lashes, sliding over my cheeks and falling to Sterling’s bare chest. He lifts a hand, swiping one away and nuzzling his palm against my face as he offers me a grief-filled smile.
He says nothing, but every ounce of love and care he’s ever shared for me passes with that one look. All the kind words he’s said, all the emotions he’s ever made me feel. It all envelops me, pushing down the darkness that’s taken me over.
I nod, blinking away tears. “I am"—I release a shuddering breath—"wanted.”
It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say, and I’m still not sure I believe it. But I can tell Sterling does. I cling to that, hoping it’s enough to win Zeke’s approval.
Zeke hums, considering, running his hand over my tender ass. His fingers dip between my thighs, teasing me. “A good start. But I need to hear it again.”
I close my eyes, trying to rein in my reaction. I hate him for doing this. It's too painful to repeat. “And if I refuse?” I ask, surprising even myself with my boldness.
Zeke stills behind me, and I think he must be shocked by my response, but then the belt is slicing into me again, jolting me forward. “Does that answer your question?”
“You don’t understand,” I bite back, cranking my head over my shoulder to try and get a good look at him. “You don’t know what I’ve done. Why you can’t be with me.” I turn my head back to face Sterling. “Either of you.”
“Angel.” Sterling’s voice breaks, lifting his hands to cup my face. “What in the world are you talking about?”
I press my lips together to try and still the quivering. “I told you, I’m not an angel. I'm a curse. Everything I touch rots. I can’t ruin things between the two of you. I won’t let myself.”
“So tell me what you’ve done.” Zeke’s voice is firm, brittle, behind me. I tuck my head into my collarbone, trying to suppress the sob stuck in my throat as I shake my head.
“Ezekiel.” Sterling’s voice is low, warning.
“Let her answer.”
But I don’t. I just press my face deeper into the hollow of my chest, hoping he’ll let this pass.
“Come on then, Evangeline. If you're as bad as you claim, tell me what terrible things you’ve done.” He presses his hand against the small of my back.
It’s a small motion, but there’s so much stiffness in his fingers, so much restraint as he holds himself back.
And somehow, it’s enough to pull the truth from me.
“I am tainted, stained. An abomination.” The word sours on my tongue, remembering all the times my father used it against me. Hot, bitter tears spill down my cheeks.
“Are we not all?” Zeke scoffs. “If you’re going to be self-deprecating, at least have the creativity to come up with something more original.” He brings the belt down against me again. I cry out, the noise a mixture of both physical and emotional pain.
“Evangeline.” Sterling’s soft voice cuts through to me and I lift my head to find his eyes. “You know what to do if you want this to stop. All you have to do is say the word.”
I hold his gaze, watching the silver of his eyes as it twines around streaks of grey and black.
There’s so much in his stare. Sorrow, love, pain, grief.
But more than anything I see belief. Belief in me, in Zeke.
In what the three of us could be. He told me Zeke could help me.
And as much as this hurts, I know I need the help.
I’ve been burying all of the shit that has happened to me.
And now it’s festering into a monster I can no longer ignore.
But that work echoes in my mind, tempting me to call it out, to let this end once and for all.
Arcane.
Arcane.
Arcane.
I close my eyes, shaking my head slowly. “I’m okay,” I whisper back, forcing the word down into the depths of my soul.
“I’m still waiting for you to share this list of terrible things you’ve done,” Zeke calls out. “Or would you rather another lash?”
“Dina,” I call out. My heart cracks as I say her name aloud. “She was my attendant. My friend. My responsibility. And I let her down. My rebellion cost her her life.”
“Did you kill her?” Zeke’s question is simple. But there’s so many complications in his implication.
“She was my responsibility,” I repeat, more certainty in my voice.
“Did you snap her neck?” I flinch at Zeke’s cruel words. “Did you watch the life drain from her eyes as your hands claimed her soul?”
“You know I didn’t,” I bite out through a clenched jaw.
“Then did you kill her? Or did perhaps your father’s callousness determine her death?”
“And what about the wraith? My father?” I cry out, the words coming out too fast. “The blemish on my soul and the curse the gods have put me under?”
I hear him raise the belt behind me and I brace for another lash. But it doesn’t come. Instead, I hear Zeke sigh, the sound long and broken.
“You didn’t kill the wraith, Angel. I did. Do not let the blood of that bastard weigh on your conscience, when it is my sin to claim.”
I close my eyes, going back to that night in the garage.
I know I attacked him. Felt his blood soak my skin and my claws rip through his flesh.
But as I think harder, as I concentrate to make my memories clear, I see the masked male sink a silver blade into the wraith’s neck.
Zeke, I realize now. Even back then, he was silently looking out for me.
“And as for the curse from the gods, the stain on your soul . . . you have nothing to claim. Not when your stain is near white as snow in comparison to the ebony black of mine.”