9. catalyst
9
catalyst
October 26th
Rivian
It feels good yet different, waking up in the comfort of my own bed. Gathering all the Nocturnes to return home two nights ago—before the ambush of my family drama and the barrage of secrets—was smoother than I thought it was going to be. I didn't know if they would bombard me with questions and concerns or just straight accusations. Though as my secrets tempt to slip free, whether of my own accord or not, I know I might be in for the latter on top of a heaping pile of mistrust and possibly even mutiny.
I turn in my bed, feeling the sun batter against me in relentless waves through my curtains, feeling the silk warm beneath me. The image of Lucynda under me, moaning in pleasure is all that seems to plague my mind in the midst of all the other seemingly cataclysmic dilemmas I know I must face today. Like the fact that my sister stormed off, swearing she doesn't want to see me ever again, after she learned that I've known that Amy and Ameliana are the same person, and that said person is the mother to both her twin and my wife.
But maybe she's not too mad at me after all, instead only needing a few night's sleep and rest to cool off and focus, knowing that remaining lucid with a clear head will only benefit us going forward.
I hate that I’ve left my wife unattended for the past few days, but I needed her weakened so that she’s easier to level with.
As I sit up to stretch the sleep away, I notice a small plate of oatmeal raisin cookies staged perfectly on my nightstand; a note tied around the wrapped cookies in a bow. I lean over to untie the ribbon and pull the note free.
If she's anything like me, she'll love these. Ameliana's recipe. xo, T.
I don't miss her use of her mother's real name. Maybe she's also angry with her just as she is with me. But not too angry to remain adamant on helping me fight the monster that has taken over my wife—baking these with the herbs that should deflate her curse for a while. And for that, I'm grateful.
Lavender Cyn
I don't know what time it is. I feel like days have passed but I know that's only because delirium has set in, my need for blood is crippling and my whole body aches for it.
After Travois left me, neck broken and masked, I can't be sure how long I was out, but I was able to shimmy out of his mask when I woke by working with the chains and the wall. All I want is to be free from these restraints and to feed on someone.
Why am I even here?
I kick my feet out to stretch them as far as they can go, chains permitting. I tried to stand earlier just to get the kinks out of my back but I was too tired and too weak. They don't tell you what cause and effect starving a vampire will have. But all I know is that I might feel weak physically, but mentally I am raging.
I can't say I was in my right mind when I went on my rampage. It felt nice to have the kind of power I portrayed even if just for a few moments. Staring my husband in his eyes while I watched him realize just how fucked he was for using me. It was liberating. I finally stood up to my abuser.
Maybe my brother's words held some truths about darkness and weaknesses, even if I didn't care to entertain his yapping too much. But what help does that give to whatever the hell is going on? And what happens to my mother, my sister, or my marriage in all of this?
"Hello, my sweet sin." The sound of Rivian's voice doesn't cause me to move in excitement or shock. Because I know it can't be real. I'm hallucinating it—my eyes barely able to open and my body feeling numb to the pain I can't even care to let myself feel.
But then I do feel something. A hand caresses my cheek and I lean into it, but only for a second, because the touch of something familiar brings me back to a more comfortable setting. Like being wrapped up in the sheets of Rivian's room and the way he'd hold me in his arms.
So I don't allow myself to daydream too much because I know reminiscing on those thoughts isn’t going to do much to get me out of the position I'm in now.
"Your debilitations…" the voice trails off as I fight to flutter my eyelids open. "You must be very hungry."
I moan, not caring to fully envision tangibility in order to savor the comfort of my delusions. However, when the smell of blood works its way up to my nose, I shift a little, wanting to chase the scent.
"Drink this," the voice tells me, deep and smooth and so warm against my cheek. I blink my eyes open and am yet again met with darkness. But something touches my lips. Warmth invades me. I open my mouth just the slightest and something delicious hits my tongue.
Blood.
I drink it down eagerly, chasing the high being fed to me, not even sure if it's real but it feels real.
Then it stops.
"No, wait," I beg. Finding myself leaning forward to find the source of what was being provided to me. "Please, I need it." And a chilling groan echoes around me.
"You shouldn't beg, Lucynda." The warning doesn't threaten me much, because my senses start to flood me and I can't focus on anything but my further need for blood.
I blink some more, hearing a shift next to me and I turn my aching head to my right where a shadowy figure sits next to me, their fingers still touching my skin, only this time making small circles over the pulse in my neck with their thumb.
"There you go, little one. Come back for me." My arms rest in my lap, my legs sprawled out in front of me, as I lean lazily against the wall. But I force myself to sit up a bit so that I can get closer to the figure in hopes to make out who it is.
As the blood works its way further into my system, warming my veins and erasing the dizziness that clings to me, my vision starts to clear.
"I'm sorry to have left you in here for as long as I have. I needed to make sure you would be pliable enough for me. You're rather feisty under this curse. Hell," the voice chuckles, "you're feisty even without the curse."
I notice a small smile curl against thick lips, a smile that I know I recognize.
That's when I comprehend that this isn't some kind of fever dream and that my husband really is currently sitting beside me.
"Rivian." It doesn't come out as a question or a relief. It doesn't come out as much, honestly. If anything, it sounded more like pain.
Finally able to feel my limbs again, my head stops spinning and I push myself up to sit up straight against the wall. "Go to Hell," I say to him as I twist my head away to shake his hand off me.
Rivian stands, and I can hear him pace a few steps while he brings his hand up to his face to rub his jaw, the darkness fading as sunlight shifts through the small window.
"Cyn, I don't think you're in a position to fight against me right now. I understand that you might have some sour feelings toward me but-"
"But nothing, Rivian. You strung me around and took advantage of my trust for you. Trust I don't give to anyone . . . but I gave to you ." Sorrow grips my tone, and no matter how angry I plan to remain with him, I can't help but let the strength of my other emotions fight for presence. And trust me, I'm irate with my husband's betrayal but more than anything . . . I'm heartbroken.
"You don't think I battled with that line I know I shouldn't have crossed?" Rivian spins around to face me. "The facts are, Lucynda, that my exigency in regard to your mother started way before I even knew you existed. Hell, way before you were even born. I can't possibly explain what crossing paths with you did to me."
"I can," I fight back the unwanted tears that well in my eyes. "It ruined me. Just like you promised me." I look up at Rivian, watching him drown in my words and I know he feels my pain. "So, I guess you can say I told you so ."
"Do you think I wanted this? That I found it gratifying and entertaining to use you? All I knew was that I couldn't deny the pull I had to you, I wanted to be so selfishly obsessed that no one would ever see you again because you'd be locked away in my room, just you and me forever."
"But you craved revenge more. How touching ." I don't have the energy to argue with him, and I know it's no use to do so. But I refuse to just sit here, already helpless as it is, and let him be the only one to say something.
"I craved you more, Lucynda. And that's why I fought to push you away. I saw what love did to my mother. And I manufactured this deep-rooted hate for anyone who played a part in that. That is why I set out on a selfish path of destruction. And yes, I thought I could use you to push my plan further because the moment I saw your eyes, I knew you were her daughter. But I didn't know I would be tethered to you and not in some stupid vampiric lore kind of way. My soul burns for you, Lucynda and I'm sorry I-"
"Don't." I close my eyes and try to squeeze the feelings he thinks he can push onto me. "I don't want to hear your apology. Not now. I'm still…" It takes me more than a moment to process what I want to say and how I want to say it. I'm not quite sure what I intend to tell him. That I'm still hurt, still disappointed. That I felt differently before all of this happened and now, I despise him. "It's going to take time, Rivian. I trusted you. I…" I can't. I won't.
And I'm thankful that my eyes dropped to something near his feet, causing a distraction from what I was about to so foolishly blurt out.
"What are those?" I ask, looking down at something that looks like a plate with some kind of pastry on it.
I wait for Rivian to answer me, a deep sigh leaving his throat before gently kicking the little dish toward me. "Cookies. Thought you might need something of thicker sustenance."
The act seems so silly in the grand scheme of things. Look at us. I'm chained in the basement of his castle with the blood of so many covering my body, after I set his precious kingdom on fire because he used me in his plans to kill my mother.
"I just unleashed my rage on over two dozen innocent humans, and you greet me with cookies?" I giggle in confusion. "The generosity ." My tone is sarcastic, and with intention.
None of this is funny. But how am I supposed to act? None of what I've been through in the last few days alone can be classified as anything genuinely normal and laughter is all I can think to provide right now.
I look down at the cookies, my mouth watering at the sight of them. I've never really been one to fancy the sweeter things in life, often opting for the salty or savory options. But I won't deny, I am starved. And I would really like to sink my teeth into something.
"How do I know they're not poisoned?" I ask, nodding my head to the plate of cookies.
"Not poison," he says surely. But there's a hint of something more in his voice. "They've been baked with a cure."
His words make me pause for just a few moments and I sit up a little straighter, intertest piqued.
"For vampirism?" My question sounds eager, like maybe there is hope in the simplicity of something as small as cookies.
"No, for your curse." I don't know if he sees my reaction, but it's not short of uncertainty.
I shake my head at him, not knowing what the hell he's talking about to the extent that I'm almost convinced that maybe I am making this whole situation up.
"I should have told you sooner." He takes a step forward, and his voice grazes a level of sincerity that I'm not entirely used to with Rivian. "But the night I found you in your old home, after you accidentally killed your stepsister, I saw it in your eyes."
He gives me a moment to process the very night he's talking about and I remember the image so vividly. That was the night I hated myself the most, because I finally gave in to that one little taunting voice that was just loud enough to convince me to enact payback on the ones who kicked me when I was down.
I loved the feeling but hated myself for what I had done.
Rivian continues his explanation. "You know how my eyes glow a black shadowy color when I hunger for blood or when-"
"When I turn you on," I interrupt him, because I have noticed the very look he's talking about. It's an exhilarating experience to witness.
"Yes. Well, yours were purple that night. A light, vibrant hue of the sweetest lavender." He licks his lips, almost as if he's reminiscing over that night.
He was there for me, helped me through my battles and that's when I knew that I truly did . . . no.
I can't say it. It doesn't matter anymore. He broke my trust and I can't just be too forgiving of that.
"And that's not normal?" I question, still not really sure where he's going with this.
"It's rare. It's called lavendulan messorem, and it means Lavender Curse ."
"So, I'm cursed?"
"Oftentimes, it forms when a new vampire is struggling to fight the desire to be driven in light or dark energies. Most people are made up of one more than the other, so usually the dominant energy is what usually takes over, comprising themselves of the strongest emotion they feel so that they don't get overwhelmed with everything else. It's a natural proceeding. But there are rare instances where one's soul craves both; light and dark energy." I can't help but to be drawn to his words, the way he treads carefully with his explanations and makes sure that I am taking it all in. I find myself leaning closer to him the more he talks.
"The fight between what your head is telling you that you need versus what your heart is begging for, that's why you get angry and thrill for the hunt. That's why you can't seem to control your feeds and show a lack of compassion for much right now. You, in other words little one, are what nightmares are made of." Again, I'm hanging on to his every word like I wait for my next breath. I don't even know why because I am still so mad at him.
But then I do take a breath and I realize everything that he just said about this curse is supposedly the reason why I am acting the way I am, but part of me doesn't know if I should feel relief by that or offense. I'm only playing the role I was given, so what the fuck does he care? He did this to me.
"So what, your stupid cookies are here to save the day," I snarl at him, and he simply lowers his head with a playful smirk painted across his ridiculously handsome face.
"They're laced with crushed lavender. It's said to quell the curses' desires for a while. If you'll take them, I can unchain you and we can-"
"Talk?" I laugh. What more could he want us to talk about? Though I won't lie, the idea that something might be able to help fix whatever is wrong with me sounds enticing. Because even though I like playing the bad guy if even for just a few moments, I do want to get the fuck out of these chains.
Rivian leans down and lowers his voice, his tone sending shivers down my spine because he feels so close to me, and I miss the way that feels. "I owe you the entire explanation, little one. And you might not believe me, but you are my wife and I refuse to have you any other way."
I let my eyes fall shut, wanting to believe him but I know it's going to take more than sweet-talking me to get me there. The damage is done, and I'm already so far gone.
"You're right…" I match his tone, whispering darkly so that he hears me when I speak to him. "I don't believe you."
Rivian doesn't give me more than a breath of air before he swooshes in, standing me up, and pushing me up against the way. My back is pressed deeply into the concrete, the chains rattle with the movement and it shell shocks me as adrenaline courses through my veins. If I wasn't wide awake and alert before…
"I could get on my knees for you right here, Lucynda. Prove it to you, if that's what you want." His warm breath skates against the shell of my ear, my cheeks burn with so much greed for his touch, but he keeps his palms pressed against the wall behind me as he cages me in. "I wouldn't mind begging for my wife's forgiveness." He leans back just enough to feather his lips over mine and I my desire pools between my legs as I yearn for him to fucking kiss me.
"I want-" I can't breathe. Everything feels like it's on fire. The chains scrape against my skin in a delicious form of friction that makes my need for him feel that much more sinful.
"Your words, little one," he demands as he presses his chest closer to mine and I know he can feel the rise and fall of my chest.
But I have to stop this. I don't want what happened at the Gilded Hollow to happen again even though it was riveting and fulfilled my needs. I just know it won't bode well for us to keep up with the fight of power between us, trying to claim dominance by engaging in rough sex. But I need him just as badly as I hate him right now.
I have to muster up enough courage to say something other than what I really want to say. I want you to touch me. I want to kiss you. I want to feel you deep inside me. But instead, I lean my head back, giving me a little bit more distance to separate myself from the need to give in.
"I'll eat the damn cookies," I say with a sly smile, and I don't miss the slight look of defeat flash in his eyes. But he doesn't skip a beat as he takes a strand of my hair between his fingers and looks from my lips to my eyes before whispering, "Good girl."