29. Archer
ARCHER
Darkness blankets the sky, but it does nothing to shadow the frustrations that continue to thrum through my veins.
I know I'm being stubborn, but I'm not the only one.
Why can't she understand that we're keeping it from her for good reason?
I truly believed I would never regret the decision we made, that there was a good reason behind it, but the moment we brought her back into our lives everything changed.
I hate that.
I can see that now, the past two years of pain, especially on her end, could have been avoided since we wound up in the exact same space, anyway. But I have to find a cause to hang on to, so it wasn’t all for nothing.
Scrubbing a hand through my hair, I try to turn my brain off, but the only thing that seems to do that comes in the form of a fiery phoenix, and there's no chance in Hell I’m getting a distraction like that anytime soon. Or ever again, if the pain in her eyes was anything to go by earlier.
Instead, I get to live with the guilt that floods my system.
Trudging across campus, I feel my device vibrate in my pocket. One quick glance and I spot Teddy's name on the screen, an incoming message, but I ignore it, shoving it back in my pocket.
He can fuck off as well.
My chest tightens at the mere sight of his name.
He should have made her stay in that meeting room, so we could talk this through.
Don't get me wrong, I understand now that it could have been interpreted very differently when Baron yelled in my face, but my intention wasn't to keep her there to force her to be grounded, just for her to understand, to calm down, to not be so chaotic.
It's never good when you feel like that, I know from experience, but her magic seems to fuel it further, beckoning that part of her in a way that cannot be calmed. Instead, she blasted from that room, leaving the tension worse than ever, and there is nothing I can do about it.
Unfortunately, I'm self-aware enough to acknowledge it's the lack of control I'm fighting with, but there is something else, that air of distance that's firmly between us once again.
I don't like it.
Approaching the dorm buildings, I step through the flames, determined to figure out the solution to my problems, when I'm stopped by the unfortunate sight of Francesca hovering at the bottom of the stairs.
She plants her hands on her hips as she assesses me, and I breathe out a sigh, already over the exchange before it's even begun.
“All of this needs to stop, Archer,” she states, making my eyebrows gather.
“What, precisely?” I grunt, and she waves her hand around frantically.
“This mess with your mate.”
My jaw tics, revealing the slight flutter of irritation that courses through me, an emotion I wish I didn't feel at all so I could project ignorance to her inconvenient proximity.
“The only mess with my mate is you and your bullshit,” I grunt, and she scoffs.
“You know that's not true,” she insists, taking a step toward me, and I tilt my head, the familiar feeling of my fingertips chilling at her lie consuming me.
At least she knows she's talking crap.
“Do I?” I reply, like she isn’t a lying bitch, and she reaches for me, but I brush her arm away before she can make contact.
“Archer, we could be everything,” she breathes, and I rear back with disgust.
“I saw you as a sister,” I murmur, watching her face twist with disappointment.
I know her mate, he’s a good guy. A year older than her, hence his absence, but despite that, I’ve never seen her in that light. The second I rejected Ivy, even after seeing her in all her beauty, I never saw anyone else in that light.
Nothing more, nothing less.
I’ve spent two years tangled in a web of despair; it’s only now that I’m on the other side that I can see it. But I also see the girl before me for what she truly is too.
“Leave me alone, but more importantly, leave my mate alone.”
I breeze past her without waiting for a response, refusing to give her any more of my time as I stomp up the stairs, faltering when I reach my floor to find Dorian leaning against the wall across from Ivy's room.
“What are you doing out here?” I grunt, and he drags a hand down his face.
“She wouldn't let me in. Ah, well, Greta kicked me out,” he admits, and I roll my eyes.
There’s no arguing with Greta. I like her too much.
“And you're sure they're in there?” I clarify, but before he can answer, a round of laughter seeps through the doorway, giving me the confirmation I need.
Exhaling, I shake my head and storm for my door instead, bathing in the darkness and silence as I let the door click shut behind me, but before I can steady my breathing and my emotions, the light flickers on and bleeds through the room.
My body stiffens as I open my eyes, and my nostrils flare at the sight of my father seated at my desk.
His jaw works from side to side as he adjusts the collar of his black shirt. His expensive, heavy watch glints in the light as he sits with his feet shoulder-width apart, his leather loafers shiny against the worn flooring.
He looks out of place.
He is out of place.
I scour my thoughts, mentally trying to figure out where he should be instead of here, but I come up blank, just as blank as I do when I try to guess what has him here to begin with.
I haven't missed any phone calls or received any notes passed on from Coal, so I definitely didn't see this coming.
That’s just how he likes it.
Catching me off guard.
All I can tell is that he's pissed.
I can see it in his eyes.
“Father,” I mutter, and he drags his tongue along his teeth.
“Archer, would you care to guess why I'm here?” he asks, pursing his lips at me, and I muster a sour smile,
“Because you missed me,” I muse, and he scoffs.
“Don't play games with me, Archer,” he warns. “I’m not here to be amused.” His tone has been dredged from the depths of Hell, my hands burning with heat at the truth of his words. “I’m here because I'm furious, and I want answers,” he snaps, and I cock a brow at him.
“From me?” I clarify, and his eyes narrow.
“Who else?” he bites, and my hands curl into fists at my sides as I try to contain my emotions.
“What would you like to know that I couldn't have answered over a call?” I state, and the tension rippling between us escalates as a malicious sneer takes over his face.
He rises from his seat, measured and slow as he lifts his hand, curling his fingers one by one.
In an instant, I'm overcome with pain.
My head feels like it's going to combust as I drop to my knees, hands clamping over my temples as I will the pain to subside. The sharp ringing in my ears and the pulsing of pain are impossible to fight against.
He lets his power burn through me for a few more moments before it subsides.
“Stand,” he barks, and on wobbly feet, I follow the order, rising with a heavy head. “Why did you go home?” he grunts, and my eyebrows furrow deeper.
“To see my mother and sister,” I answer honestly, and he darts across the room, reaching for my fingertips, and I allow my answer to drift into him.
Hot.
“Why?”
“Because I miss them,” I answer truthfully, ensuring the heat that travels between us is just as hot, but it's not enough for him.
Pain infiltrates my mind, and I drop to my knees once again.
“Bullshit,” he snarls, his anger barely audible over the pain contorting me. “Did you think I wouldn't know?” he snaps, lowering his hand once again to ease the tension in my mind.
“I didn't think it would be an issue,” I rasp.
“I’ve made more powerful men fall for much less,” he snarls, grabbing the scruff of my neck and yanking me to my feet with ease.
The threat is loud and clear.
I sink my teeth into my tongue, tasting their familiar essence of copper as I keep my mouth shut. He storms across the room, dragging me along with him, and I go with the movement as he shoves me into the chair he had occupied moments ago.
Pain continues to throb through me at his command as he glares down at me, his eyes set on mine.
“Who is Theodore Lupus?” he commands, and I scoff.
“Is that a trick question?”
My father slams his hand down on the desk with rage as he leans in closer.
“Why is he sniffing around my business?” he bites.
“I wasn't aware he was,” I push back, and he growls.
“Another strike. Maybe you need to see what's at risk,” he grunts, and I frown in confusion, watching as he marches for the door. The pain that consumes my head makes it impossible for me to stand as I hear a grunt and a thud, and I immediately know it's Dorian.
My pulse rings wildly among the stabbing sensation that continues to consume my mind as the sound of a knock vibrates in the distance, followed momentarily by the sweet sound of Ivy's voice.
Fear consumes me, right to the bone.
I can't hear what they say, but my worst fears are confirmed a few seconds later when my father returns, Ivy a step behind him.
Her scent envelops me as she steps into the room. My father ensures the door is closed behind them, but one thing is clear: whatever he said to get her here isn't what she's walking into, because instant fear clouds her vision as she stares at me.
The sight imprints in my mind in the same way it did when I watched her die.
All of my guilt will forever revolve around this woman and the devastation I seem to continue to cause.
Feeling her tension exposes my vulnerabilities further, and my heart aches.
My father hasn't even begun to speak, and emotion dances in our eyes, but my vision blurs as my father uses even more of his magic to scramble my mind.
“Fuck,” I curse, curling my fingers into my hair as my body leans forward.
“Archer?” Ivy cries out, taking a step toward me, but my father stops her in her tracks.
“Son, why was Theodore Lupus sniffing around in my business?” I offer him silence.
Not by choice, but because the pain that continues to vibrate through my bones at his hand is impossible to think through.
“Would you like her to feel what you're feeling right now?” he muses gently, and I try to shake my head, peering at the blonde vision before me.
Her eyebrows pinch as her lips twist. “It's okay, Archer,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the tremble, but I don't miss my father's grin as he claps his hands.
“As you wish it.”
“No,” I croak, but it’s inaudible over the sound of Ivy’s screams as she collapses to her knees, clutching her head with the same pain, and I can't stand it.
My soul bleeds, but my father finally withdraws his abilities just enough for me to be able to use my tongue.
“His mother wants to be in the same room as you.”
The room falls eerily silent, and I can practically hear my father think.
“Cressida?” he confirms, and I nod, my entire body spent, but curiosity gets the better of me as he grins.
Relief floods through me as I watch Ivy shuffle back to her feet, pressing her back against the wall, but when my eyes latch onto hers, panic takes over.
She's panting, and I can sense from here that her magic is as scattered, even more so, as it was earlier today. She looks like she wants to kill him, but it's not as simple as that. If it was, I would have done it already myself.
“Ivy,” I breathe, and frightened eyes find mine as my father clamps a hand down on her shoulder.
“I should thank you, Angel,” he rasps, his mouth at her ear, and I want to burn that nickname to the ground. “I should thank you for getting my son to talk,” he says wistfully, while Ivy’s teeth chatter as she clenches her hands at her sides, eyes so wide I can feel the burning sensation myself.
“I wasn't aware he said much,” she whispers, and my father winks.
“He said enough. Now, how can I thank you?”
She shakes her head. “I'd rather you just left,” she mutters, splaying her fingers out on the wall behind her as she struggles to contain her magic.
“I will,” he says, tapping his chin as he leans closer, crowding her space.
Anger burns through him as he reaches out, dragging his fingertip down her cheek.
"Your father promised you to me until you were announced as the fated mate of my son,” he murmurs, my pulse quickening in my ears as my hands burn red at the truth in his words.
“Now it seems he's had a higher offer. Reginald has never been anything more than a backstabber,” he grunts, tilting his head as he continues to assess my mate.
“I should kill you for it, make him hurt, but you know what will hurt him more?” he pushes, but before she can answer, he continues, venom tainting his eyes.
“Anything. Anything would hurt him more than hurting you, because he doesn't care about you. He never has, and he never will.” He leans back, fueled by his anger as he snarls at her.
“I should have known when I brokered the deal for him to marry your mother that it would end in turmoil, but I'll get my peace. I'll enjoy watching you dismantle it.”
He presses a kiss to her head before sauntering from the room, as if he hasn’t left wreckage in his wake.
I sag in relief as I hear his footsteps in the distance, racing toward Ivy as fast as my aching wounds will allow me, but the closer I step, the more panicked I become.
“Ivy,” I rasp, and she gapes at me, eyes ringed with orange.
Fuck.