Chapter 15 #3
Seraphina is dressed in a black woven turtleneck with the sleeves cut off.
Her tattooed arms are interrupted by black leather straps spun around her hands and wrists.
She’s armed to the teeth. Multiple daggers strewn about, a crossbow on her hip, and two battle axes slung across her back.
I’m not sure if I want to take her to bed or take a step back.
Given I never back down from a fight, I have an inkling to my true intentions.
“Ugh, not these two. Loud is an understatement. If you don’t behave—both of you—I’ll have to leave or claw your fucking throats out,” Kissa hisses.
“Aren’t we starting the rough foreplay a little early, kitty cat?” Seraphina winks.
“I can’t believe I’m stuck with you two for the rest of my nine lives. If one of you wasn’t bad enough alone, the both of you will be absolute fucking torture,” Kissa laments.
“My heart. You wound me, my love.” Seraphina clasps her hands to her chest, feigning a deadly blow from Kissa’s comment. Then she prowls over to Kissa, slinging an arm around her waist. “But you know I’m always down for some torture.”
Kissa bares her fangs in a growl. “Fuck this. I’m getting us all shots. I’ll need to be smashed to put up with this.”
“I’ll come help,” I say. I’m all too excited to get away from S?las, turning to follow Kissa, only to be met with a hiss from snarling canines.
“Or not,” I murmur, backing away slowly.
“Don’t mind Kissa. Once she’s drunk, she's much more agreeable.” Gearin twists the side of his imperial mustache.
“Shucks, I was looking forward to her clawing out their throats. I do love a good show.” I smirk. Plus, that would have taken S?las off the playing board for me. Instead, I’ll be exploring just how dirty I’m willing to get my hands.
“No, please. Too messy for me. Remember, guys, we’re a team now!
Save the slaughter for the front! Plus, I really don’t want to spend this week cleaning their blood out of my new dress,” Fenwick warbles, our self-declared team sunshine.
She’s wearing a beautiful white dress, decorated with dancing shapes of her weaving light magic.
“I’m just here for the booze and the view,” S?las hums as his eyes drift to mine.
I snarl in return—but there’s something about him, keeping my gaze locked with his, almost as if it’s impossible to look away. To my fucking dreadful lament. Maybe it’s his spellbinding eyes swirling with smoke-like shadows on fresh fallen snow, a haunting darkness—matching my own.
His presence eclipsing everyone else in the room.
He stands with the effortless confidence of someone who’s untouchable, despite his dark aura and unknown bloodline marking him as an outcast. His very existence simmers my blood.
His eyes dance over the markings on my collarbone, leaving an uncomfortable heat searing along my skin, making me shift my weight.
Celestials, I need to shake him off, squashing the feeling of him, like a bug crawling its way up to bite me. I finish my second drink, slinging the empty vessel on the table. S?las disappears, leaving me looking at Orion, who is eyeing me suspiciously.
Fuck. She can read my Aura. I really hate that.
Don’t much care for how intrusively she can see through my mask, watching me grapple with these pesky emotions that won’t fucking stay in their boxes long enough for me to chuck them out the broken mosaic window.
Nothing’s been quite right in my head since the Ethereal Maze of Whispers. Everything’s messy—harder to control.
The ringed curls on the back of my neck move. S?las is suddenly right behind me, his touch so delicate, I can barely feel it, arcing electrifying tingles across my skin. A reedy breath leaves my lips before I come to my senses, elbowing him in the gut.
“Who the fuck said you could touch me?” I snap, more alarmed at my body's response to him than anything else. And just like that, he’s back on the opposite side of the small table, shadows swirling around him.
Seraphina smacks her leg in a laugh while Fenwick, Gearin, and Orion try to hide their snickers.
I even catch a subtle half-smirk on Cinder’s broody face.
Glad everyone else is having a blast while I shove all those tingly feelings in a tight box and light it on fire before chucking it out my mind window.
“You’re a curiosity to me. I couldn’t help myself.” Regret painting his face in realization of his mistake.
“I am not some oddity here for your entertainment. If I’m forced to be stuck with you, the least you could do is learn to keep your hands to yourself,” I snarl.
S?las bows his head with an odd melancholy and anguish to his features. Like my words are daggers, twisting in his side. He wouldn’t look so pitiful if he knew of the real dagger I have planned for him.
“Let me apologize for this fuckin’ brute. I think you’re the first female he’s ever met who isn’t begging for his touch. How’s the sobering chill for ya, S?las?” Seraphina smacks him on the back of the head, his raven waves tumbling into his face.
I want to slap him upside the head for touching me, even if it was barely a graze. I don’t need him mincing up my already muddled mind, not with the effect he has on me.
“Touch me again without my permission, and I’ll remove your pretty little tattooed fingers.”
“So you think my fingers are pretty? That's quite the revelation,” he purrs with a chaotic shift in his emotions. What the fuck is wrong with this male? I understand using flirting and confidence as a mask but can’t begin to comprehend his tumbling emotional kaleidoscope.
“Be careful. I’ve heard what he can do to ladies with those fingers. You’d be doing a great disservice to femalekind, removing them so hastily.” Seraphina laughs.
I cut a glare at S?las with a look that could slash his beautiful, oil-painted face. To my dismay, it doesn’t.
He runs his tattoo-covered hands through his hair. I catch myself wondering the meaning of the various runes inked along them. Best not to know. The less I know, the easier it is to sever him from my world, cutting away the infection before it festers.
My eyes go fuzzy as Seraphina changes into Tyranny, attire and all.
“Ohhhh, S?las. You’re soooo dreamy,” Seraphina coos in Tyranny’s voice. I honestly wouldn’t have known it wasn’t her if I didn’t watch her shift. She’s incredibly gifted.
“Knock it off, Seraph. That’s fucking mean, and you know it,” S?las scolds.
At this moment, I hate him a little less. Maybe even respect him. I’ve always loathed bullies.
“Yeah, Seraphina, it’s my job to mess with minds.” Orion winks as Seraphina changes back to her natural form. There’s a flash of fear in Orion’s eyes, like she’s worried her role to fracture someone’s mind may break hers too.
A shuffle of drunk stumbling skids behind me. Fuck, what now? I sigh. Before I can turn, two fingers slither down the back of my exposed neck and over my shoulder, tracing the gold lines on my skin.
“What the fuck are these? Guess you’re as much of a freak as Chet says you are.”
I whirl around, ready to break the fingers of whoever fucking touched me, but I’m too late. Shadows slice through tissue and bone, severing the male’s two fingers. Crimson squirting in a beautiful arch, stirring the darkness inside of me.
He clutches his wrist, screaming like a bitch, as another male runs over to help him. The bleeding male’s voice trembles as he tries to shout, “Have you lost your fucking mind, S?las? They should never have let you in here. You’re exactly the monster we all think you are!”
S?las’ face is positively feral as he growls low, “No one touches her.”
I try not to roll my eyes at the fact that he just touched me, although barely. His feral growl cuts through my ribs, sending my pulse skittering before I trap it like a moth in my clenched fist.
“C’mon, Brock. Let’s get you to the healers. They’ll be able to reattach your fingers if we hurry,” the second male with slate-blue hair says as he picks Brock’s fingers off the floor and drags him out of the dining hall.
I cross my arms, scowling at S?las. “I don’t need you fighting my battles for me.”
“Surely if I’m not allowed to touch you, I won’t be allowing any other males the pleasure either,” he says nonchalantly as he finishes off his Smokewhisper libation.
“That’s not the point,” I growl as he fucking shrugs.
Seraphina and Orion hold glasses up to their lips, attempting to mask their smiles, while Fenwick throws napkins on the floor to cover up the blood.
Meanwhile, Cinder and Gearin look utterly unfazed, as if this behavior is totally normal.
Unbelievable. I’m not used to spending so much time around other Fae my own age, and after tonight, I’m glad of it.
“I’m back with the good stuff… Why the fuck is there blood on the floor? Ya know what? No. I don’t want to know.” Kissa huffs as she drops a tray on the table, nearly spilling the nine shots of glowing green liquid.
“That looks ominous,” I say hesitantly, but all too ready to forget everything that just happened. I roll my shoulders, the feeling of two strangers touching me rolling right out my mosaic window.
“Savaé, you’ve never had Hallucina’s Delight before?” Orion remarks with shock.
“You’re in for a wild ride, then. Don’t try to fight it. Let go, go with the flow, or it will eat you up. No one wants a bad trip.” Cinder’s lips twist into a devilish smirk.
“That sounds like a terrible idea for me. I already make bad enough choices sober. I can’t imagine what situation I’ll wake up to if I drink this shit.” I huff.
“It makes me feel a butterfly,” Fenwick chirps cutely as she sways. She already pretty drunk, and I’m worried about her drinking more. Ugh, since when do I give a fuck? I guess tipsy Savaé is sentimental tonight. Another reason not to indulge in a mind-altering substance.
“Maybe I should take Fenwick to bed and leave you heathens to your debauchery,” I comment.