Ronen
Chapter
Two
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This was the problem with infuriating bonds.
Chaos took over in my head and plucked strings I believed were untouchable.
My composure failed. Sound, rational thought fled.
All I knew were my wants and desires. But this was much worse than when I was bonded with Gabriel.
Words never spewed out of my mouth—at least not after he trained me.
There was a time at the beginning of our mentorship when I hadn’t cared what I said to the old man.
I didn’t want his help. But I needed it.
Then, I couldn’t help but want his friendship.
Sometime after that, Etan carved the Guardian Rune into my back, and that ultimately led to Gabriel’s death.
I could not stand to let that happen to Lucille.
I barely survived losing Gabriel.
I may have looked into the pet’s head and known he would never harm her or us, but that didn’t account for their bond—a bond that could be severed if one of them died.
Grinding my sword into the dungeon floor, shadows dimmed my vision, edging toward infrared sight as I stared at the pet.
The metal blade scraped against stone, the sound unsatisfactory.
I desired to hear something that cracked, squished, and gushed.
I’d even enjoy a few gurgled gasps. My demanding shadows eagerly awaited my violence.
They slithered around my skin on a barely restrained leash.
Their bond was a threat. We killed threats. No questions. No mercy. Gone.
He stared back, his Seraphim flames absent from his eyes, his expression flat and almost haggard.
He looked like he hadn’t slept the last two days.
Probably hadn’t. I remembered waking from my Hell Runes.
It was like a switch had flipped back on.
I could finally feel all the emotions that’d been suppressed.
They barreled into me one on top of the other, bringing with them memories of all the innocents I murdered, all the terrible deeds Etan forced me to do, all my torture, and the pain of Gabriel’s death.
It had been the darkest moment of my life.
I doubted the pet would even care if I killed him.
MJ stepped between us, her fiery hair jumping out against the dull gray stone.
She drilled holes into my face as I refused to divert my attention from the pet.
I shifted my arm in front of my groin, remembering the time she grabbed Alexei’s balls when he wouldn’t stop flirting with her long enough to pay attention to her report.
She grabbed my neckline instead, yanking me face-to-face with her. “Out of all the times you could’ve admitted to your bond, you picked the most fucked-up one. Nice job.”
“I know.”
She scoffed. “Do you? Because I just witnessed you make an utter ass of yourself and hurt Lucille more on the day of her mother’s funeral.”
And the only reason she did was because I left the damned dungeon door open in my rage. If I would’ve shut it, Alexei wouldn’t have been able to use his damn powers, and the pet would be dead.
“I know,” I gritted out, not needing a reminder. Lucille’s emotions left little room for anything else. They plagued me like all the innocent blood on my hands, sharpening my regret.
I tuned into Rune, finding her sitting at the base of the grimy dungeon stairs, watching Alexei carry Lucille away.
Go with her, I said. If it couldn’t be me, then at least our Soulhound could soothe her. I followed them through Rune’s vision until they made it to her door.
Get her attention.
Rune nudged Lucille’s hand, then licked it until she turned to face her.
Seven Hells.
All her purple and white flecks, which shone whenever she held me in her gaze, seemed dull and listless.
What had I done?
Separating from Rune, I sheathed my sword and made to leave, but MJ tightened her grip.
“You really think she wants to talk to you right now? After all this?” MJ gestured between me and the pet.
I clenched my jaw, feeling useless and needing an outlet for my helplessness. My shadows expanded, slipping from my skin to float toward the pet. MJ smacked me, hard, then ripped me back down to her level.
“We both know if you hurt him, you’ll only end up hurting her. And I’m not talking about their bond. She cares for him.”
“Doubtful,” the pet chimed in.
His voice prodded my restraint, as did MJ’s words.
Seven Hells, I wished she were lying. But only a fool could’ve missed the way Lucille turned to him and the way his irises flashed when I stepped near.
She might not love him, but her feelings for him remained, no matter how small.
As for him, he had the same damned expression Lucifer had whenever he talked about Saraqael—unquenchable longing.
If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve believed Lucille did have a second cordistella.
The two bonds were similar. They both shared emotions and had major protective instincts. But the guardian bond was corrosive and one-sided.
I had only felt the hellion’s praesidium once.
Normally, I had the cordistella bond blocked, so she wasn’t affected by its protective influence.
But when I had drained myself fighting Lilith, my blocks weakened, and her praesidium lit up my mind with a fierce, vibrant voracity.
It consumed her much like the guardian bond’s protective tendencies did.
Except the energy that had surged inside her to protect the pet almost had a malicious undercurrent.
It would punish her if she saw or felt anything happen to the pet. And I knew for a fact the cordistella bond would never require self-mutilation as penance.
It was said the Weaver created the cordistella bond to build an army of warriors who would do anything to protect each other as they fought evil. It was never about love, but protection, connection, and free will that resulted in love. But the guardian bond was the antithesis of free will and love.
“Does your cordistella know?” I hated myself for giving in to this bitter, covetous unease. It made me want to bash his skull in and then my own.
His eyes flashed, reminding me I needed to shove him back into his cell. “Know what?”
“Know that you’re in love with Lucille?”
The pet huffed as if it weren’t true. MJ raised an eyebrow, then it dropped when he replied.
“My cordistella’s dead. Courtesy of Lilith.”
Sympathy shuddered through MJ’s hard eyes, and I knew he’d chipped away at some of the hatred she held toward him.
If anyone would understand the pain of losing a cordistella, it was her.
But it didn’t excuse anything he had done, or the fact that I’d sooner gut him than feel more than a remnant of pity for him.
His hands were bloodied. His sins and misdeeds unquestionable.
He was a rot that threatened to steal my other half.
Before I gave in to my baser urges and MJ witnessed a gory mess, I slapped the pet’s cell key and the dungeon key into her palm.
“Lock him up.”
Then I left. Unfortunately, the desire to burst all his cells and watch him bleed from every orifice remained. My shadows slithered behind me as if they’d sneak back and kill him without my permission. They didn’t care about the hellion’s words—not like I did.
If only.
To feel more useful, I strode through Hell’s red-carpeted halls until I reached the healers’ wing double doors, then entered the quiet but bustling area and walked back to Oliver’s private room. Alexei stood beside Oliver’s bed, staring down at him with a slight frown.
The bandage Sam placed over Oliver’s head had since been removed. Although his physical wounds were healed, Sam could do nothing for the brain. Every day was a waiting game.
“Any change?” I asked.
Alexei shook his head. “I even told him I’d give him a kiss on the cheek if he woke up.”
“Maybe you should’ve said lips.”
Alexei’s expression turned sheepish.
“You did.”
He shrugged. “I’d do anything to give Lucille even a little bit of joy.”
His words knocked me at the knees, and I sank into the wooden chair next to Oliver’s bed, dropping my head in my hands.
Alexei squeezed my shoulder. “I guess I should’ve tried harder to keep you from the dungeons.”
I sighed, sitting back. “Nothing would’ve kept me from him. I’m barely holding my shadows back as it is.” Eyeing Alexei’s bandages, I noticed spots of blood. “How are your wings?”
He side-eyed me. “Wipe that self-degrading look off your face. You just gave me more ammo to use with the ladies at the Hoar House.”
A short, weighty laugh burst out of me. “The heartthrob hustler at it again.”
Alexei and I both peered over at Oliver, foolishly hoping that using his ridiculous nickname would wake him up. But he didn’t even twitch. Our breathing filled the tightening silence. Alexei shifted, pulled a dagger from his belt, and flipped it.
I rested my head against the rough wall. “Out with it, Lex.”
A moment passed before he finally worked up the courage to speak.
“You never told me about your bond with Gabriel.”
“It’s hard to talk about.”
He settled on the stool across from me, wincing as his wings touched the floor, then scrutinized me. “You never lose control, Ro. You can’t afford to in your position with your power.”
His words were stated, but hidden in their depths was a question.
I tilted my head back, staring at the ceiling of angels.
Their white wings and serene faces glowed in the Weaver’s light.
The painting expressed joy, healing, and goodness—absolutely nothing like the council that resided in Heaven.
My wrist prickled, reminding me of the tattoo I had carved onto my skin to always remember Gabriel’s lesson.
“Lying is easy, Ronen. It gives you a sense of freedom. Power. But always remember that freedom comes with a shovel and fire. Before you know it, you’ll dig yourself seven circles under and burn alive with the shame of what you’ve done.”
I remembered scoffing at Gabriel and spitting out, “You’re delusional, old man. I’d lie to Etan till I was red in the face.”