Chapter 51 Fate Burns #2
“I know, Des.” He runs a hand across his jaw with a sigh. “I have to find the words.”
“I believe the words are ‘I’m destined to kill you.’” I shake my head. “Did you know this whole time?”
“Desdemona—”
My tone is stern, each word hard-hitting. “Were you planning on killing me?”
He sits up quickly, eyes alert, shaking his head. “You should know—”
“Know what? It’s your destiny,” I spit.
“Screw destiny,” Lucian says, teeth clenched.
“I don’t want to hear it. No more explanations or revelations. I’m tired,” I say, clutching the Memorium tightly. “Do whatever you want, but I have people to get back to.”
If the Memorium can do what I need it to, then I can leave Lucian. He doesn’t have to be the only thing I have. But I’m not sure that’s why I’ve stayed.
I walk away. I’ll find a mirror. Head to the septic.
Lucian shouts behind me. “I never said I was a good man!”
“And I never asked you to be one!” I scream, turning to face him.
“That night you told me you see me? Well, get this—I see you too. The bad, the ugly, all of you. You fucking killed me, for gods’ sake!
” I count on my fingers as I say, “You snapped my neck, broke my spine, and stabbed me in the heart. What would have happened to me if you had remembered then what you know now? That you are my demise.”
“Desdemona,” he growls, “only one of us is the other’s demise. My heart has been in your hands since before I remembered you had one.”
“Don’t get fucking sappy with me!”
“You don’t want me to be sappy? Fine,” Lucian exclaims. “I’m not a good man.
” He points at his chest. “A good man wouldn’t think about a girl the way I think about you.
A good man wouldn’t watch you kill a room full of people and think that my heart might as well be on the floor with the lot of them.
A good man would kill the creature that killed his father in front of his eyes.
Yet here I am… unequivocally and yet again bound to you, as if by something thicker than blood. ”
I shake my head. It isn’t enough. Words can’t be enough now.
“Fuck you,” I breathe.
“Fuck me,” Lucian says.
I step closer to him. “Fuck you for everything you did last year!” I jab my finger into his chest. “Fuck you for ruining my life!” My finger turns into a palm as I shove him back, taking a step forward to shove him again.
He stumbles back, crashing into a tree. I hope it hurts.
“I hate you, Lucian. It’s the only thing I know how to feel for you, and it’s the only thing I want to feel. ”
“Okay,” is all he says.
“Okay?”
Lucian steps closer to me, too, my hand still pressed against his chest. There are mere inches between us.
I can feel his breath on my skin as he whispers, “Hate me. I’d rather you hate me than feel nothing.
I’d rather you shove me to the ground than walk away.
If you killed me, your name would be the last words I breathed. It was—”
“That’s terrible!” I shout, cutting him off.
“Then I’m terrible!” Lucian yells back, just as loud as me.
“I’m terrible for you.” His hands tremble at his sides, fingers twisting nervously.
“I’m terribly in love with you. You want to know why I didn’t tell you?
Because you scare me more than anything.
I love you more than anything. And love is the greatest weakness I’ve ever known, so hate me, Desdemona.
I hate you, too. I hate you for making me love you. ”
I clench my jaw, looking up into his eyes as my expression hardens. “I didn’t make you do anything,” I spit, pushing him away, trying to shove the confession back into his heart.
“No,” Lucian says, softer this time. “You didn’t. Because even without my damn memories, I still found you. Like I was wired for it. Like the universe didn’t give me a choice.”
He stays, lingering a breath away, looking at me like he’s scared to look away—like I might disappear if he does. I don’t know what to do, where to go. I don’t know how to take his words.
Words aren’t enough this time.
Slowly, he steps back, giving me some much-needed space. So why do I want him to return? How can I mean every word I say and still long to disregard them all?
There is no space to disregard them all.
If I feel any ounce of hatred for him, I have to cling to it. If I can keep myself far away, I must. Don’t I?
“I won’t be someone’s weakness,” I say, voice low. “I won’t let you be mine.”
Lucian sighs, the sound full of sorrow, and asks, “That’s it, then?”
Words I’ve asked him before, echoing back like a sick memory. He really does remember me. But it’s not enough.
I force myself to mean it as I say, “That’s it.”
I turn away, and it isn’t hard to leave. One foot in front of the other—it’s meant to be this way. We’re meant to be distant, and if we can’t manage that physically, I’ll do it emotionally. Because being close to him means choosing death.
Lucian falls in step next to me, and I bite my tongue.
“I’m coming with you,” he says, resigned. As if this is his fate. As if I am his fate. “Whatever becomes of us, I’m with you.”
I don’t meet his gaze as I mutter, “Do whatever you want.”