Chapter 7
Vivian’s Point of View
Rule seven: Shut him out.
How do you sleep when there’s an unlocked door connecting your room to a deranged psychopath?
Simple, you don’t.
Leon’s room went silent ages ago, but I haven’t stopped eyeing his door like it’s a bear trap, just waiting to snap open and ensnare me.
This won’t work. He could open the door at any moment, and I wouldn’t even know it. Again, I desperately scan the room, trying to find something to lock it from my side.
Nothing.
Maybe I can grab a chair from the hallway to lodge under the doorknob? The floor is cold under my feet as I tiptoe over to the main door. It’s locked from the outside.
Rude.
Silver lining, there’s a latch on my side as well, and I lock the door from my side. It’s a start.
Undeterred, my eyes fall on the wardrobe, just a few feet to the left of Leon’s door.
Bingo.
Hopefully, it isn’t bolted to the wall. Even though I’m loath to get anywhere near his door, I sneak over to the wardrobe and try nudging it with my shoulder. I’m met with a deafening scraping noise that makes my blood run cold. Freezing, I hold my breath, waiting to see if Leon heard.
When there’s no sign of life from his room, I blow out a shaky exhale and wonder how I’m going to make this work. One perk I’ve picked up after being on my own for so long is how to get creative when faced with obvious team exercises.
It takes me a while, but eventually, I have the wardrobe emptied, moved in front of the door, and refilled. I know I’ll need to move it again come morning, but for now, it’s giving me a semblance of safety.
Letting out a yawn, I finally change out of the dress. It’s stained with a few droplets of blood from where my nails were digging into my hands, but when I look down at my palms, there isn’t any sign of injury.
A sick feeling spreads through my stomach. For one terrible heartbeat, I wonder whether it’s Kenzie’s blood – until I notice the bruises Leon gave me earlier are gone too.
My body is healing quickly. I suppose it’s one of the perks of being an immortal.
Then again, Arianna bled for hours after Morgana stabbed her for sneaking into her room. So maybe not?
Sighing, I swallow down my frustration over being left with more questions than answers. It’s too bad I never came across a copy of ‘Immortality for Dummies’ in Morgana’s library. That seems negligent on her part.
I suppose I could ask Leon my questions tomorrow, but I get the sinking feeling his ego will get in the way of being forthcoming. I can already picture how well asking him about my accelerated healing would go.
“Don’t concern yourself with healing. I will protect you, so you are never hurt by anyone but me,” I mutter in a low, mocking tone.
Letting the dress fall to the floor, there’s a slight pinch in my gut when I realize all my scars are gone.
I can’t tell if I’m relieved or disappointed.
Not long ago, I would’ve been thrilled. But I was finally learning to embrace them as a part of who I am.
They were a sign that I survived. This feels like yet another piece of myself that has been carved out, so they can mold me into a beautiful lie.
The blue diamond of my engagement ring catches the light, and I immediately wrench it off.
Seeing it only gives me more heebie-jeebies, and I shove it into the deepest recesses of my wardrobe.
I’m not wearing that thing a moment longer than I already have, and I make a mental note to flush it down the toilet tomorrow. I’ll say I lost it in the castle.
Now I’m only stuck wearing one piece of unwanted jewelry. The Creator collar is still invisible, but its weight is ever-present. Frowning slightly, I realize I don’t have any tattoos. I figured I’d be covered in them, just like Sin and Leon.
Maybe they only appear when you first use your power?
I’m tempted to use my Reaper powers to see if I’m right, until I remember what happened to Kenzie.
Someone might be watching.
The thought has me scrambling to finish getting ready for bed, only to remember I didn’t see anything that looked like sleep attire when I emptied the wardrobe. An icy chill runs down my spine at the implication.
Leon wants me to sleep naked.
That’s going to be a hard no for me. Instead, I grab a silk dress that might not have wires running through it.
Finally, I curl into the bed, hugging a pillow to myself.
I am so unbelievably fucked. There are so many big problems that I need to work through. If I make a single wrong move, Sin might get captured, war will break out, innocent people will be slaughtered, and Leon will rape me.
Each thought tightens the despair winding around my throat.
I know I need to use this time alone to come up with a plan, but how do I even begin to unpack that?
It’s getting harder to breathe by the second.
I’m overwhelmed, I’m exhausted, and I’m scared.
I’m also just one person. I was never qualified to take on any of this.
I’m not brave.
My sobs come freely. This is all too much. All I want to do is sink into Sin’s warmth, far away from all of this. Closing my eyes, I try to picture us together on the beach again. The mental image sends a small current of electricity pulsing through my skin, flooding me with comfort and warmth.
I revel in the feeling until my mind clears enough to wonder why the mate bond is acting up now.
It made sense earlier, since we were so close together, but now, he’s probably back in the Shadow Realm.
Then again, I think every time I’ve let myself miss him, the mate bond has done the same thing.
But the comfort doesn’t feel like it’s coming from me; it’s almost as if the emotion is coming from the bond itself.
The possibility has my breath catching, and I immediately test the theory. Sure enough, the moment I picture Sin again, the mate bond pulses. Only this time, it also carries a sense of longing. It’s faint, almost as if the emotion is traveling a long distance to get to me.
My heart feels like it’s forgotten how to beat. Sin mentioned that mated pairs can often feel each other’s emotions. But we were separated so quickly that we never had a chance to figure out if anything had changed between us.
Is that what’s happening now?
I try not to let myself hope, even as I close my eyes and focus all my thoughts on Sin. I picture myself in his room, wrapped in his arms. Then, I shove every ounce of love I have for him into that image, clinging to a desperate hope that he’ll feel me.
I have no idea if I’m doing this right. Maybe my mind is just playing tricks on me, and I’m hallucinating.
I’m definitely overdue for a mental break.
But just as I’m about to give up on this whole crackpot theory, the mate bond thrums a little stronger, bringing more feelings of warmth and longing. They’re met with my relief and joy.
I’m not alone. Even if Sin and I aren’t together in person, we can still feel each other.
His emotions continue to flow through the bond, and I let myself pretend, just for a moment, that he’s here with me. Sinking into the blankets, my muscles finally relax until a horrifying thought has me jolting upright.
What if Sin can feel my emotions, even when I’m not focused on sending them? Earlier today, Sin attacked the wards, right when I thought Leon was going to assault me. Then, he warned that he’d know if Leon laid a hand on me.
My stomach twists. It’s bad enough that Sin is worrying about me. But the idea that he can feel my pain and fear is gut-wrenching.
The guilt burrows deeper by the second. People around me get hurt.
Firefighters pulling Jackson’s body from the water.
Kenzie lying in a pool of her own blood.
They’re dead because of me.
I can’t let that happen to Sin. What if he feels my panic and then storms inside the Council’s wards? The possibility makes me shudder.
I need to turn it off. I have no idea if that’s even possible, but I need to try.
Comfort and warmth are still flowing through the bond, but rather than letting myself bask in how good it feels, I go back to picturing Sin holding me in his room. This is still happening in my head. That means I must have some level of control.
Taking a breath to steel myself, I reluctantly step away from him. With that, I imagine dark, black out curtains hanging along each wall in his room. Slowly, I walk over to them and pull them closed. With each covered wall, I picture whatever tether is connecting our emotions growing weaker.
The comforting warmth from the bond grows dimmer.
It’s working.
Finally, I reach the last wall, ignoring the slight feelings of panic and distress being sent down the bond.
I send out a final burst of love as I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
Then, with shaking hands, I pull the last curtain closed.
I shut him out.