Chapter 28 Aurora #2
The air thickens, sharp and acrid, the smell of burning rubber making my eyes water.
Then it spreads, oozing and throbbing, smothering him in a skin of thick, pulsing tar.
He doesn’t notice.
But I do. I see it all.
And somehow, I understand exactly what I’m looking at.
His rotten, fucked-up soul, wallowing in its own filth.
Flashes of a very young girl struggling flicker behind my eyes, like found footage from someone’s worst nightmare.
It’s fucking disgusting.
Did this sick fuck rape an underage girl?
The feeling of righteous anger swells in my chest, destroying the dormant bugs.
Fuck, it feels good.
“What d’ya have in mind?” The piece of shit slurs his words and hiccups as he tries to grab my tits.
Fuck all of that.
I’m done being pushed around.
I don’t think. I don’t aim. I just grab the steak knife and jam it into his balls with every ounce of hate I’ve got.
He blinks.
Once.
Twice.
Poor baby. His body hasn’t quite processed it yet.
Then his face contorts slowly, horror creeping in. His mouth opens, a strangled breath escaping … and then he feels it. The fear hits like the delayed shockwave of a nuclear blast.
And fuck, it’s intoxicating.
“Don’t make a sound, baby, or I’ll take your balls.”
To ensure he fully understands, the thing controlling me shoves the knife a little deeper. When he whimpers, my gaze drops to his lap. Blood and piss bloom across his pants like some fucked-up humoral flower.
“What’s your name?” I growl as I twist the knife and lean into his neck.
There’s something about the way he smells that makes my mouth water. I can’t tell if it’s the thing inside of me, or me, but I want to rip him open and taste what’s inside.
“H-Harlan,” the man spits out around his quiet sobs.
I lift my head, my breath hot against his ear—controlled in a way I never am.
But I’m not the one steering.
The thing inside of me doesn’t just rage. It purrs, pressing closer, folding into my bloodlust and nuzzling my rage.
And why shouldn’t I let it tear him apart? Old Harly deserves to have his dick ripped off.
Except, shit. I’m not alone. Thane and Eve are here. I’m sure they’re watching.
Shut up and let me do this. The thought is mine, or at least, it feels like mine. It plants itself deep, settling into the darkness around me.
And worse? My body listens.
I feel it—a jolt—like being shoved from behind. My mind slams forward, clawing for control. I wrench myself back, breath sharp and hands shaking.
My body is mine again.
But it’s still there.
Lurking. Watching. Humming with approval.
“Poor Harlan. You really fucked up tonight. You see, I know what you did to that young girl. Did it make you feel powerful? Stripping away her innocence? Hearing her beg for her mother? And she wasn’t the only one, was she?”
“N-no.”
“Good boy, Harly. It’s unfortunate it took a knife to your balls to make you admit the sick shit you’ve done. What were you planning to do with me? Speak. Now.”
I’m vaguely aware of the sweet, buttery scent of kettle corn in the air.
Is this thing in my head part of my magic?
“I knew you’d say no. I was gonna follow you home.
I wanted to hurt you. Take you by force.
Make sure you scream. It turns me on when women beg me to stop.
You’re a little older than I prefer, but you’re hot.
And you look so innocent. I would’ve hurt you, over and over again, then dumped you somewhere no one would ever find you. ”
Fucking vile. I want to scrape his words off my brain.
“Not very nice, Harly. I mean, only two days ago, someone tried to take everything from me, and they almost succeeded. It won’t happen again. Not to me, or any other woman.”
Harlan trembles, his mouth twitching, trying not to cry. A high, shaky whimper escapes before he can swallow it.
“Aw, sweetie. You really thought you were the monster in this story, didn’t you? That’s adorable.”
I lean in close, lowering my voice to a whispery growl.
“Here’s what you’re going to do.”
I don’t know how I know, but I do. He’ll obey. Every cruel, beautiful, blood-soaked word of it.
“You’re going to finish your drink. Leave a big tip.
Then go home. When you get there, you’ll write down every name.
Every girl. Every woman. Every filthy thing you did to them.
And you’ll beg for their forgiveness. Then, Harly—” I smile, teeth grazing his ear.
“You’re going to find the sharpest blade in your house.
The kind that sinks deep. Do you have a bathtub, baby? ”
Harlan nods, and the tears that had been welling up in his eyes finally overflow, leaving damp streaks on his face. I follow the salty trail with my tongue, slow and starving, savoring every shudder.
His panic floods my mouth. It tastes divine, like metallic copper and bitter sweat.
And fuck, I want more.
“Next, you’re going to take that sharp blade, go to your bathroom, and fill the tub with scalding hot water.
Maybe put some bubbles in there too. Treat yourself.
I’m not a complete monster. Then I want you to get naked, climb into the tub, and take a moment to feel the fear and pain you inflicted on those women.
“Now, for the best part! I want you to take your blade and slice your balls off, one by one. Then, slice off that teeny tiny prick of yours. Finally, I need you to slice up your forearms as deep as you can go. Grind that blade against the bone, baby. Can you do that for me?”
Harlan nods, and when his eyes flash a bright gold, his body completely relaxes.
“That’s it, Harly. Relax. Accept it. Now fuck off and get to work.”
Did I really just do that?
Fuck, that felt so good.
Harlan stumbles back to the bar, oblivious to his blood and piss-soaked pants, then chugs his beer.
I should feel bad. Ashamed. Maybe try to take it all back. Fix it.
But I won’t. Because pieces of shit like him will never stop.
And I’m done letting men like Harlan win.
The broad-shouldered, flannel-wearing, ex-military-as-fuck man behind the bar watches the whole thing.
Oh. Flannel flannel.
The same guy who looked at me like I was an undetonated landmine the last time I was here, one he’d probably have to throw himself on if it ever went off.
Now he’s behind the bar, watching like I just detonated the room—which, fair.
But he sees me. Sees what I did. Sees what Harlan is.
He flexes his jaw but doesn’t say a word. Flannel just exhales through his nose, one of those slow breaths that says, “I hate everything about this day.”
So, because I’m feeling dangerous, maybe even untouchable, I meet his stare with a smirk.
And with a flick of my fingers, I blow him a kiss.
Flannel lets out a longer breath this time, dragging a hand down his face like a man already so fucking done with my bullshit.
He mouths the words slowly, begging the universe to hear him: “Jesus. Fucking. Christ.”
As my gaze slides back to my two friends, the jukebox kicks on again.
Seriously?
“Villain” by Stella Jang?
I catch myself halfway through baring my teeth at the jukebox and shake my head.
Passive-aggressive vinyl demon. I know it’s messing with me.
“A-Aurora?”
Eve’s voice jolts me back to the present, back to the real world.
Part of me knew, at the time, that they were sitting there, watching, but most of me didn’t, and still doesn’t, give two shits. If I could do it all over again, I’d do the same goddamn thing.
Filthy fucking perv. I hope he bleeds out slow.
Eve leans forward, voice shaky but fierce.
“That guy was terrifying. The way he talked to you—like he owned you or something. I was about to stab him myself, but then you—”
She swallows hard.
“Your eyes were glowing, Aury. You didn’t even sound like you. And he was bleeding. What the hell did you say to him?”
Her voice breaks a little; she’s overwhelmed but still trying to stay upright—for me.
She shakes her head, her eyes wide. “Seriously, what the hell just happened?”
She’s all over the place, words spilling out faster than she can string them together. But across the table, Thane is still. His head tilts, a smirk playing at the edge of his mouth, and it sends a different kind of shiver through me.
Then, after a beat, he turns to Eve, his voice steady and soothing.
“It’s okay, babe. We had a long couple of days looking for Aurora.
And keep in mind, she’s been through something neither of us can even begin to comprehend.
Plus, that man is a suspect in several rape cases in the area.
He won’t tell anyone about what happened here tonight.
You need some sleep, Eve. Maybe we should get you home. ”
Why is he covering for me?
And how does he know about Harlan?
“Aurora, what do you say we call it a night? Maybe we can get together again later in the week.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure. My neck is killing me, anyway. I’m sorry, Eve. I don’t know what came over me. I’m just tired of men like him taking whatever they want without consequences. No offense, Thane.”
“None taken. And for the record, you should be proud of what you did. You stood up for yourself. And scared him so shitless, you most likely saved a bunch of other women from a horrible fate.”
“It’s fine, Aurora. You’ve always had a short fuse. But I love your huge, fiery heart. And after what happened with Jameson, I don’t blame you for shoving that knife into that pervert’s balls.”
At least they don’t seem upset with me.
“But seriously, why do I smell fucking kettle corn? This place doesn’t sell kettle corn. And now I really want some!” Eve slams her hands down on the table as she searches the shadows and corners of the bar for a secret kettle corn peddler.
Ezra said my magic smells like kettle corn and that it’s soft and kind, but what I just did to that man was anything but soft or kind.
Still mumbling about kettle corn, she plants a kiss on Thane’s cheek. “Be right back. Gonna pay the bill. My treat tonight. No arguments.”
Thane looks like he wants to argue, but before he can open his mouth, Eve leans down and whispers something in his ear.
It must be good because his smile is so bright it could power a damn city.
Thane pulls her into his lap and kisses her with so much passion that I get a little hot and bothered.
Eventually, Eve comes up for air and stumbles to the bar.
Thane has said some crazy shit tonight. Now might be my best chance to ask him a few questions.
“So, Thane, you said the last time we were here that you met Ezra at a low point in your life. I don’t mean to pry, but what happened?”
I sound like such a nosey bitch, but I’m almost certain he knows Ezra isn’t human.
“Ah, well, not technically prying since I’ve mentioned it a few times, but also nothing I really want to discuss. Basically, he found me in a dangerous situation out on the trail, took pity on me, gave me a job, and here I am,” Thane explains, with a chuckle.
A crash near the bar yanks my attention away. I turn just in time to see two drunk assholes take pathetic swings at each other.
Cheap entertainment is still entertainment.
But before I can enjoy the show, the air shifts.
Not the fight. Not the crowd.
The space.
Like something ancient just opened its eyes.
One of the drunks stumbles forward with another punch.
And suddenly, there’s someone between them.
Not suddenly like he walked in, suddenly like the world reshaped around him.
Like he was never not there.
Jesus fuck, he’s massive—and inked to hell and back. Neck, jaw, arms, hands—everywhere.
Wait. Are they glowing?
Shit. I’ve seen this guy before. He was draped over Flannel like a goddamn jungle cat the other night.
He wasn’t glowing then.
Or maybe I just didn’t know what I was looking at.
The drunk barely gets a chance to look up before his survival instincts kick in.
His face goes pale.
His knees buckle.
Then he runs.
The other follows.
Tattoo Guy doesn’t move. Doesn’t even watch them go.
He just waits. Lets the air settle. Lets the world forget.
Then, just as effortlessly as he appeared, he moves.
One massive, inked hand fists into the bartender’s shirt and yanks him forward.
Not over the bar. Just far enough to make him brace himself, his hands gripping polished wood, breath punching out in surprise.
And then—
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Tattoo Guy kisses him.
Not softly. Not gently.
This is fury. A wildfire of a kiss.
Dragging Flannel straight into it like he belongs there.
Like he always has.
And Flannel?
He takes it.
For one drawn-out, devastating second, Flannel lets it happen.
Lets himself be manhandled. Kissed senseless.
And, yeah, fucking claimed.
Then his fingers twitch, and I swear I see him start to pull Tattoo Guy in.
Like he’d deepen the kiss if the bar wasn’t in the way.
OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.
I’m about to die.
Right here. In this booth.
Someone call my ancestors. I am not surviving this.
And just when I think I’ve hit my limit, Tattoo Guy exhales against Flannel’s lips and mutters, “Mine.”
With his eyes closed and a small smile playing on his lips, Flannel grumbles, “Yeah, boss. Yours.” His fingers flex, like he might just drag him back in, but Tattoo Guy is already gone.
One second, he’s half-over the bar, tattoos glowing like molten gold.
The next? Back on his side of the bar, calm as death and adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves like he didn’t just detonate my ovaries.
Fuck. My soul has left my body.
My drink sits untouched because I no longer require earthly sustenance.
My brain just short-fucking-circuited.
That wasn’t PDA.
That was biblical.
Like the wrath of an Old Testament god and the hottest scene from an underground art film got drunk and decided to make me question my entire existence.
And then, like a glass of ice water to the face, reality yanks me back.
“Aurora.”
My gaze snaps back to the table.
Thane is watching me. Too still. Too intent. The bar noise blurs, fading into the background.
The warmth in my stomach ices over.
He’s looking at me like he knows something. Something he shouldn’t.
And just like that, the bugs come roaring back to life.
He tilts his head—then, fuck—his eyes suddenly burn white.
No iris. No pupil. Just bright, endless white.
He blinks, and it’s gone.
As Eve walks back to the table, giving the strange jukebox a wide berth, he whispers, “Be careful, my queen. Ezra isn’t the only one who lurks in the shadows.”