Chapter 13 #2
Instead, I stood in a land of rolling emerald hills, dotted with grazing sheep and bordered by low stone walls that curved along the earth like veins. A strange brightness filled the sky, too clear, too clean.
Ireland, perhaps. I’d only heard stories of such places, mentioned in passing by merchants or whispered in smoke-filled taverns.
The air smelled different. Fresher. Wilder. But still foreign. Alien.
A strange language danced through the breeze, rough, musical, incomprehensible. My body was tense, and my senses stretched thin. I drank in the dissonance, letting it feed the fire in my chest. Every unfamiliar detail was a risk, a threat… and a step closer to her.
I spotted a group of men ahead, huddled and murmuring in low voices. One of them met my gaze, too long and too directly.
I approached.
My heart pounded with something between anticipation and rage.
But as I drew closer, I saw their expressions shift. Darken.
One reached beneath his coat and drew a gun.
Foolish.
In the blink of an eye, I had my dagger in hand. The blade sliced through his throat before his finger could find the trigger. Blood sprayed across the grass. The others stumbled back, eyes wide with terror, hands raised in surrender.
Cowards.
I stripped the dead man quickly, donning his clothes with practiced speed. Blending in was the first rule of survival. I wiped the blood from my blade and slid it back beneath the stolen coat.
Then, I searched.
My eyes swept across the unfamiliar faces, every heartbeat whispering her name. Alina. Alina. Alina.
Where was she?
How had she survived this long?
She had no skills but sex and deceit. No weapons but her tongue and her thighs. Could she charm her way into safety? Had she already ensnared another fool?
The thought made my jaw clench.
I stalked the town’s winding roads, moving like a ghost through the fog of language and strange customs, desperate to find her.
But what would I do when I did?
I was split down the middle.
One part of me still wanted to protect her. To wrap Alina in my arms and keep the world from ever touching her again. But the other part—festering beneath the surface—wanted her punished. I wanted her to pay for what she’d done to me.
Hostility, sympathy, confusion… it all churned inside me like poison. I couldn’t sort one emotion from the next, and I couldn’t make them go away.
As the sun bled into the horizon, my steps dragged heavier with each passing moment. Time travel had drained me of everything. My muscles ached. My mind throbbed. My soul felt like a hollow fucking shell.
I needed something—someone—to refill me.
When I reached the edge of town, I spotted a military encampment. Torches flickered. Tents lined the field like a row of beasts waiting to be stirred. I figured maybe I could find a willing prostitute there, get what I needed before killing her and walking away.
But to my growing frustration, there were no women in sight.
I muttered a vicious curse and turned away from the camp. My patience had thinned to a thread. All I wanted was release. Something warm, soft, and forgettable. Someone to take the edge off the day.
That was when I saw her.
A dark silhouette lingered in the alley ahead, half-drenched in moonlight. She smiled at me with a knowing gleam in her eye. Her blond hair rippled around her shoulders, catching the glow like a halo.
“Zara?” I whispered. My heart twisted. “Why the fuck does your spirit haunt me? You’re dead. Buried.”
But I was drawn to her all the same. Something primal surged in me—need, instinct, desperation. She wasn’t Zara. Nothing ever would be. But she’d do.
She stepped toward me, invitingly, and I followed.
Her fingers were warm when they touched my face. Her voice, low and sultry, spun promises of pleasure I didn’t deserve but craved anyway.
I gave in. I let her guide me deeper into the alley, where shadows cloaked our sins. We fell together onto the cold, damp ground. Her mouth found mine. Her hands roamed my body. She was skilled and practiced, and every movement was meant to make me forget.
And for a moment, I did.
I melted into her. Let her take what she wanted. Took what I needed.
But the moment it ended, something inside me snapped.
My passion had been satisfied. My strength was restored.
But the emptiness? The fucking emptiness—it hadn’t gone anywhere.
And this bitch—she wasn’t Zara. She never could be. Zara was my one true love.
Rage boiled up inside me—hot, merciless, blinding. My vision blurred as I reached for the nearest rock. Without thinking—without hesitation—I brought it down on her forehead.
Once.
Twice.
Crack.
She was gone in seconds. Her body collapsed in a heap, limp and useless beneath me.
A twisted smile crept across my lips as I stood over the scene, panting. My hands trembled—not from guilt, but from satisfaction. Adrenaline surged through me like wildfire, my body still humming from the thrill of release, from the taste of death.
I turned and walked away, leaving her corpse behind in the dark alley where she’d offered herself like a lamb to the wrong wolf.
I pushed open the doors of the nearest tavern, and the room fell silent.
Every eye turned toward me, drawn to my disheveled appearance, to the madness they could probably feel bleeding off my skin.
I barely noticed them.
Because there she was.
Alina. Perched on a man’s lap like she fucking owned the place.
Her laugh—light, lilting, cruel—echoed through the tavern. My hands clenched into fists.
How dare she?
I had made it clear—there was to be no other man. No one else. Ever.
Yet here she was, flaunting her betrayal in my face like a goddamn prize.
The man beneath her was handsome in that pretty, forgettable way. Chiseled jaw. Blue eyes glinting in the lamplight. A fool who didn’t know he was sitting with the devil herself.
Then Alina turned.
She saw me.
And she smirked.
Without missing a beat, she reached up, curled her fingers around the man’s neck, and yanked him into a kiss—deep, wet, deliberate. She devoured him like I hadn’t spent every breath trying to find her, like she didn’t know I would rip this place apart.
Then she pulled back, her hands trailing down his chest. She gripped his shirt, tugged it up, exposing his skin like an offering.
The bastard shuddered beneath her touch, completely oblivious.
Men nearby watched with envy, their gazes dripping with lust, silently hoping for their turn.
A few whores drifted down the stairs, their painted eyes scanning the crowd for opportunity. One sauntered up to me with a practiced sway, but I shoved her aside with a snarl, my gaze locked on her.
Alina.
She didn’t stop.
Her lips. Her hands. Her betrayal was on full, unapologetic display.
And I stood there, frozen.
Rage surged through me like molten iron, numbing every thought, every breath. My chest heaved. My vision blurred. All I could hear was the roar inside my skull.
Then I saw it.
She cast a glance in my direction—a fleeting, wicked look.
The bitch knew I was watching.
She was doing it on purpose—taunting me and daring me to lose control.
Her fingers roamed the stranger’s chest, slow and sinuous. She pulled him closer, her lips grazing his as they moved in perfect rhythm, as if I weren’t standing a few feet away, burning with fury.
The man leaned back. Alina tilted her head to meet his gaze, brushing her fingers over the rough stubble on his jawline. She tugged him closer again, mouth parting to devour his.
And that’s when I snapped.
Flames burst beneath my feet, curling across the wooden floor like living things. Smoke hissed into the air as the tavern filled with the scent of scorched wood and fire-soaked wrath—a charred circle formed around me, a warning carved into the earth.
One of the whores screamed and fled. Others clutched their marks, terrified. Several men drew pistols and pointed them my way, their hands unsteady, their courage already crumbling.
But I didn’t look at them.
My eyes were only for her.
I strode through the room like judgment incarnate. Silent. Seething. And when I reached their table, I didn’t say a word.
I grabbed Alina by the neck and yanked her off the stranger’s lap.
The man jumped up, panic flooding his face, his bravado stripped away like rotted paint.
He backed up. He knew. He saw.
Alina didn’t resist.
She clung to me, her body trembling—not with fear, but desire. Her chest rose and fell against mine, and when she looked up into my eyes, I felt something sharp twist in my chest.
Her grin. That grin—mischievous, knowing, damn near wicked—hit me like a blow.
And gods help me; I felt my cock strain against the confines of my clothes, aching for her.
Alina.
My curse. My torment. My addiction.
The heat between us crackled like the fire at our feet. I wanted to kill her and kiss her in the same breath.
“You finally found me,” she whispered, her voice soft as sin. “What took you so long?”