Chapter 24 #2
Prince of Hell, indeed. I thought to myself before pondering whether Aamon was just a concept–an amalgamation of stories from different cultures or religions–or if he, like Thallor, was real.
For the sake of my own sanity, I hoped it was the former.
Because the way the book described him, it was almost as though he didn’t want to cause pain and destruction but needed to.
As if driven by some boundless lust for chaos–one that could not be sated by anything or anyone.
With every sentence I read, I felt the tightness in my chest constrict until I could barely breathe. I could feel it. His fury. His anger. His malevolence almost rose up off the page as though his wrath had been liquified and used to ink the words themselves.
Every moment not spent in destruction was a moment wasted.
Every soul left unbroken was an offence to his very nature.
Aamon was the epitome of Hell itself. And with every passing moment, the obsession in his mind grew.
Hell wasn’t enough. His powers were too limited.
He didn’t just want to exercise control over the dead, but the living too.
He wanted to see the world burn in a sick, twisted symphony of death.
And when it did, his kin would either be grovelling at his feet or burning with it.
As if on cue, a couple stumbled into the space one aisle along, their laughter loud and jarring and loud against the silence.
A beat later I could hear the rustling of clothes and shoes shuffling frantically against the old, carpeted floor.
The wooden shelving behind me creaked and whispered moans filled the space.
Please don’t have sex next to me.
I wasn’t sure why, but without fail, every time I found myself on the sixth floor, I became the unwilling participant in what could only be described as the world’s most disappointing five minutes.
I didn’t have time for this. I needed to focus on the stack of books in front of me, but the sound of lips meeting skin and the murmurs that bounced off the shelves–each one as cringey as the last–pulled me from my thoughts.
I wasn’t sure what it was about dusty, rarely cleaned, hardly sanitary, that riled the students of Aldercrest University up so much. Either way, I was not interested in being a third to whatever it was they were doing. Not to yuck anyone’s yum, but I’m not a fucking voyeur.
“You two may have both consented to this but I certainly didn’t,” I raised my voice hoping the seriousness of my tone was detectable through the sounds of tugged shirts and unbuckled belts.
The whole area went still, and I rolled my eyes.
Before long, a man peeked his head around the corner, sheepish, eyes wide, and looking right at me.
His cheeks are flushed, and he muttered a quick, “Sorry…” before he stumbled off, dragging the woman with him.
Every. Fucking. Time
I sighed, pushing myself out of the chair and groaning softly.
I glanced over at the clock ahead of me, watching for a moment as the minutes continued to press on, the little hand mocking me with every passing tick.
The idea of sitting there for another hour trying to find a topic amongst the endless pile of books was a less-than-appealing prospect.
One that had me stumbling down the stairs, no closer to a thesis idea than I had been the previous day.
The sound of my Blundstone’s echoed as they came into contact with the stone stairs.
Walking back into the alcove where we were sitting, I found Thallor chatting with two girls.
A pang of jealousy shot through me–I might not have had a right to be jealous, but I was anyway.
A feeling that was only made worse when I noticed who was talking to Thallor.
Cannibal Mermaid and Harley Quinn. Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant. I wonder what cruel and baseless comment was written next to the picture of my face in their Burn Book.
For several moments, I just stood there watching the conversation unfold.
The two girls flirted mercilessly, the offering of a threesome not falling short of my ears.
And although the sadistic clutches of jealousy continued to hold me frozen at the threshold of the alcove, there was something in Thallor’s bemused and irritated expression that settled my spiralling thoughts somewhat.
For all their smiles and giggles, Thallor just glared at them with a cool indifference, astounded by brazen behaviour and sheer audacity to distract him from what he was watching.
When Thallor’s eyes met mine, it was like time stopped.
Like that moment, that turning point in every romcom when the main characters finally realised what they were to each other.
It was a scene destined to be replayed in my head over and over–on days when I was feeling bad and wanted nothing more than for my insides to feel fuzzy.
And on days that were good, I’d return to this buzzing, warm feeling that trailed across the surface of my skin because it truly had me believing in something as magical and fantastical as love.
The grin that tore across his face jolted something deep inside me, something that I was coming to realise, needed to break free.
The two girls turned a moment later, following Thallor’s gaze to where I was standing at the opening of the alcove.
The atmosphere in the space immediately changed; their charming dispositions were replaced with something sour and less friendly.
You can roll dog shit in glitter, but at the end of the day, it’s still going to be shit.
And by the look on their faces, they could smell themselves too.
Despite everything I knew about these girls, I couldn’t help but feel insecure in their presence.
They were both so unbelievably attractive, it was hard to imagine that someone like Thallor not being excited by the prospect of them.
But I knew more than anyone that beauty only went skin deep; it didn’t matter if you had a pristine and shiny exterior if you were rotten below the surface.
And as I stood there, watching the disgust unfold across their faces, the smell of decay was palpable.
Either way, my smile faltered–just a little–but enough for Thallor to pick up on almost immediately. Whether it was his otherworldly abilities or just how close we’d become, I wasn’t sure.
“Oh my god, it’s the freak from the party,” I heard the blonde one whisper loudly enough for the whole library to hear. “It’s rude to eavesdrop.” It’s also rude to be a bitch for no reason, but you don’t see me keeping score.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said as I rolled my eyes and walked over to the table with my things scattered across it. “By the volume you were speaking at, I thought the offer of a threesome was available to anyone currently on the premises.”
“Jesus, you are a freak. I know you have the social skills of a goldfish—” Harley Quinn continued as Ariel just snickered in next to her.
She spoke in a slow and exaggerated tone as if I was a fucking dog.
“But we—” she made a circular motion with her hand, encompassing Thallor in her we proclamation, much to his disgust, “—don’t want you here. So why don’t you run along?”
If it wasn’t for her entire demeanour screaming “chihuahua on speed,” with her jittering movements and wide eyes, I would have probably been slightly more bothered.
But after the last few months and everything I had been through, her grating little voice barely made an impact.
The opinion of a peroxide blonde, and her unwarranted notion that the world and everyone else in it owed her something, wasn’t worth the emotional energy.
Not that I had much left to give, anyway.
“Can you not see that we are trying to have a conversation here?” The redhead finally perked up.
I’d seen this girl put back enough maki rolls to put the sushi industry out of business.
Maybe all that mercury in the fish had finally gone to her head because she clearly lacked the ability to put two and two together as I continued to pack up my stuff, not bothering to dignify her comment with a response.
Only when Harley Quinn pushed my notebook onto the floor did I look up at them both, preparing for a barrage of insults.
One’s that never came. Instead, my chin was tugged upward by large hands as Thallor tilted my head toward his, eyes locked on mine, and concern laced behind them.
The two girls faded from my surroundings as I fought to keep afloat in the beauty of his eyes and lost. Despite my overwhelming social anxiety and perpetual uncertainty, I’d always felt quietly confident in my ability to handle situations like these…
or at least get through them with my head held high.
I’d been through countless situations like these. Ones that left me feeling vulnerable and hurt. Ones I wasn’t sure I’d recover from. But I always did. And although I probably could have handled the situation myself, it felt good to have Thallor step in.
He continued to hold my chin between his index and thumb. His hands were large and rough, yet they had me with an unexpected gentleness as if he knew just how much pressure to apply to make me feel safe. Yep, I’ll take that smirk, those eyes, and a side of reassurance any day.
Without warning. Without so much as another word, Thallor leaned down and kissed me.
He let his lips lightly brush against mine.
The kiss was tentative and delicate. As if not fully sure if I would not pull away.
But I could feel it awaken something in my body as our skin made contact.
I could feel the spike in my chest and the fluttering beneath my skin.
“What’s going—” The red-headed girl stumbled back slightly into her friend as they both stared at Thallor and me with wild eyes.