Chapter 48 #3
I shake my head. “You’re simplifying things.” My voice cracks, weighed down by the rage building inside of me, snuffing out the array of other emotions that have been blinding me.
“I’m not, Evangeline. Your father is an evil male.
He has traumatized you along with countless citizens, both mortal and Arcane-touched.
He has tormented this city for years—decades, even.
He's racked up an extensive list of offenses that the Arcane-touched are only too eager to amend." Zeke tosses the belt to the side and I hear it clatter to the floor. He grips me by the hips, turning me over so I’m sitting on the bed between Sterling’s legs. I stare up into Zeke's icy blue eyes.
“But his biggest offense, in my opinion, was convincing you that you are a curse—that you are wholly and utterly unwanted.”
My face screws up with emotion, incapable of believing his words. It’s too much to hear him speak so bluntly. To contradict my flaws like this.
“He was threatened by you,” Zeke continues, undeterred by my display of emotion. “And because of that he convinced you of how weak you are. He locked you up to stunt your power. And when that didn’t work, he underestimated your ability to fight for yourself and left you for dead.”
“I am weak,” I whisper. “Even now, I can feel the pain threatening to pull me under. The headaches, the ache in my bones. You don’t understand how hard it is to live with this infection, this disease.
It’s a curse from the gods themselves. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t exist without feeling like I’m dying, Zeke.
Even now, with the power of the Arcane in my veins.
Tell me how that’s not weakness. Tell me how that’s not a curse. ”
I glare at him, breath heavy as I wait for him to respond.
“You hurt because your magic is powerful. And you haven’t been given the environment for it to thrive.” He lifts his palm to his mouth, biting into it and sucking in a mouthful of blood. Leaning forward, he brings his lips to mine, kissing me deeply so that the blood washes over my tongue.
I want to push him away, to argue that he’s wrong.
That this isn’t something that will be fixed with a little extra attention.
All I’ve ever had on me is attention. And yet I have always suffered from this ailment.
But the blood hits my tongue and it overtakes me, smothering the pain lacing through my bones.
I need more of it, crave it. I chase after him as he pulls away, but Sterling holds me against him.
“You’re not tainted, Evangeline. You are exactly who you are supposed to be. And it happens to be someone we desire. Deeply.” Sterling’s breath tickles my ear as he speaks, and I resist the urge to lean into the warm feeling of it.
“And what about Aamon?” I argue instead. “He saw me for what I really was. Maybe he changed his mind for a short time, but how else do you explain him throwing me out?”
Zeke stills, seemingly incapable of rebutting my point.
“And you, Ezekiel. You've been so adamant to refuse me. A ten minute conversation with Sterling doesn’t negate weeks of your restraint. You rejected me for a reason. Why should I believe you when all you’ve ever done is try and convince me of the exact opposite of what you’re saying now?”
Zeke’s jaw hardens, the muscles there twinging with the force of him gritting his teeth together.
When he speaks again, his voice is deep, slow, as if he can barely contain the words he’s sharing.
“You will never understand how sorry I am for treating you the way I did, Evangeline. For contributing to the pain you’re feeling.
It wasn’t a reflection of you . . .” He sighs, the sound rumbling in his chest. “But of me. Of the absolute shit storm that has been my mind since Sterling and I escaped Sommael.”
His throat bobs, his shoulders tensing as his eyes gleam with regret.
“As far as Aamon goes… I told you there are things at work that you know nothing about and have nothing to do with who you are at your core.”
My brow knits together, my own jaw hardening now. “Until you can give me a concrete example of what you mean, I cannot believe you.”
Zeke sighs, dropping his head and rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his forehead. Sterling trails his fingers idly over the outside of my arm, not daring to speak.
“If I tell you the truth, will you finally accept this? Me and Sterling? Will you stop fighting us and let yourself be desired, wanted? By both of us?”
I don’t answer right away. I just watch him for several silent moments.
For someone who just ran out on me not even half an hour ago, he’s fighting incredibly hard for this.
And for all the times he’s treated me like shit, I think of how many times I’ve still sought after him.
How many times I caught his eyes on me or longed to be near his presence for some unknown reason.
“Okay,” I say at last. It’s just one word, but the tension in the room melts away at it.
“Okay,” Zeke repeats, almost as a sigh of relief. “Then let me tell you a story.”