39. Living my Nightmare
Living my Nightmare
KYRA
I’m up hours later from someone patting my back. But now sitting up, I don’t see a soul in sight. “Blaiseeee.” The whisper returns, and at this point, whatever.
Treading into the bathroom, I yawn and stretch then relieve my bladder. After a few minutes lapse, I’m ready to jump back into bed. Alex made one hell of a point about getting rest. Four hours later, eight on earth, I feel better but desire more.
A quick glance in the mirror reflects a crooked bonnet I correct, then I pull down the hoodie over my panties and smile.
Catching sight of a bottle of body wash by the shower, I’m reminded of Russ’s text after my earlier shower.
‘I can smell you’re using lavender and warm vanilla soap.
It’s new. I like it.’ I laughed hard, sending a middle finger emoji with ‘LMAO,’ then turned my phone on silent.
Stepping out of the bathroom again, I’m startled by a dark figure moving about. Shit, how’d a gloom get in here? Creating two metal daggers and forfeiting more sleep, I prepare an attack as a pair of hunting, bright eyes blink at me.
“What the hell are you doing in my room, Ethan!” I yell, relieved it’s him instead of a gloom.
Though, under these circumstances, my odds with the latter may be better.
Why’s he here? My phone glows from a text, but there are more pressing matters to contend with.
Refocusing on him, I say, “I asked you a question.” I grip my weapons and match his scowl.
He remains perched on a chair of his design, against the furthest wall at my bed’s right side, returning a pair of golden, glowing eyes beneath the hood of his brows. This much I can see beyond my blackout curtains.
Threats manifest in the form of energy slithering up my arms with crippling inflictions, aiming for the tender flesh around my throat. I lift my chin, allowing his aura access. Never again will I back down or cower.
“I won’t ask you again, Ethan.” I hold steadfast against the touch of his magic. Fine, don’t answer.
Dissolving the curtains, I reclaim their energy as blinding rays enter, smothering all shadows hidden in the corners of my room. His gaze drops to my thighs, lingering with such intense passion and rage that the heat from his stare tingles over my exposed flesh.
But again, I don’t shy away. He has seen plenty of me, and I refuse to let his distaste of my body hold an opinion.
Those dreadful orbs scale back up, and we become locked. Fixated, like always. He squints, and magic so thick pushes against my aura, fluttering my hoodie from it alone, and tightening his hold around my neck.
This time, I use my own aura to keep him from suffocating me.
“Clever girl,” he snarls, curling his lips. “You had me fooled, I’ll admit. But then again, you never tried hiding it, did you?”
“I’m not entertaining these games of yours. Get the hell out.” Speaking between my teeth, I see he ignores my warning.
“A fool you must take me as. Perhaps, a simpleton. Deluded, or in mortal terms, an idiot…better yet, a dunce,” he growls, but I’m stuck on his choice of words. Dunce? Who uses that on a day-to-day basis? And what is he playing at ?
“Look, whatever you have going on doesn’t involve me. Get. Out. I won’t say–”
He stands in haste, knocking back the wooden chair, which causes a clamor, and I flinch. “Do you think I give a fuck about your wants? Your rules?”
An eruption of anger, blended seamlessly with pain, laces his response, tightening the hold he has on me. Annoyance might have become my downfall. He is still much stronger than I am and even disregards the cursing, which is something Ethan never does.
Another sensation grazes up my thigh, increasing the thrashing in my chest. Slow and calculated it burns a trail up the center of my black, cotton thong, continuing beneath my hoody and up my abdomen, between my breasts, stopping just above my collarbone and applying pressure.
A straight line, simulating slicing me in half.
I pant, feeling his intentions, while finding it difficult to swallow. I’ve let him get too close. Shit.
“Finally! You have nothing to gawk about? What an artistry,” he mocks, running a phantom blade along my neck. I wince as he repeats his previous threat and a sting blaze just above my collarbone. Warmth rolls beneath my hoodie, and my eyes widen. He managed to cut me, but how?
“What do you want?” I ask, pushing more of my aura out to keep him from achieving his worst. He takes a step closer, but peers out my window, and I notice what he is wearing.
A black muscle shirt with matching sweatpants and disheveled hair.
White, thick strands, cast over the front and back of his shoulders. What happened?
“After our match,” he starts, looking over his shoulder at me.
“You know, where Ares temple was destroyed.” Now he looks back out my window.
“I became curious, thinking, in other words. How did you survive an elite gloom attack? Luck–no that can’t be it.
Power?” He relinquishes a devious chuckle at the thought.
“No, not even close. Which led me to your mother, and all the dots began to connect. ”
I’m dumbfounded at what point he is trying to make, his insinuation about a time he knows nothing about.
“Why do you care how I defeated it?” I grunt against his hold. I’m contained, but not powerless. The crystal dagger hidden behind my waist speaks of such.
“Humor me, little Nova.” There is that name again. Ethan loosens his hold, but only enough for me to speak.
“Fine. I was ambushed, we fought, and Angie showed up to rescue me. Why’s this important now?”
“Ahh, the valiant mortal, destroying glooms and captivating hearts,” he jeers. “Pity, the things you’ve endured. But no, I’m not inquiring about that.”
“Then what the fuck do you want? You asked about my encounter, so what more…” Wait, it wasn’t my first encounter. Did he mean…” Frowning, I ping between both of his golden eyes.
“It appears you’ve figured it out.” He advances.
“That single most defining moment.” He stops before me, judging and anxious.
“You see, the day we fought, you somehow manifested a being from your own creation. Just as my spear was set to end your life, cries of pain were pulled from a darkened time, and they steadied my hand, tugging on the most pivotal moment in my life. Thus, conjuring a common ground between you and I.” He gestures a hand between us.
“Common ground? Bullshit, you’ve been hell bent on killing me still. Had it not been for Alex’s contract–”
“You mean, this?” he asks, holding up an unrolled scroll with the word, ‘Binding’ written at the top. He proceeds to rip it in half. I gasp in shock, and a potent force enters my room. Dark clouds with electricity sparking rain over Ethan like some form of magnetic pull, hitting him head on.
Howls of agony crumple him to his knees as jolt after jolt hits with a true aim. Four, five, six…They continue one after the other, and tears swell as I watch. I jerk against his magic, but it remains as strong as when he first planted it.
“Ethan!” I shout. My heart lurches from his soul wrenching cries. Eight, nine, ten. Flashes of deep black strike his back and burn away the thin piece of cloth once concealing him. Please, God, I can’t watch this. Not again. Another death happening before my eyes.
Blood spreads, pooling around him as the strength of his nails crack against my floor, breaking away and leaving his fingers raw.
Again, his body jolts. Again, as screams transcend with panic and freight trembling my body.
Nineteen, twenty, and finally, it stops.
Smoke fills my room, and what tears landed upon my floor sizzle out from the strikes.
“Ethan?” I jerk, not taking my gaze away from the multiple, sporadic lines singed across his back. Raw flesh sizzles as his body convulses.
Seconds turn into minutes before the first sign of him moves.
“You…see. Little Nova.”
Standing, his dark blood trails along the path of ink coating his chest and down the side of his abs. A viper, coiled, reared back and ready to strike. My eyes follow every drop into his waistband, and all I want in this moment is to help him. Why?
“Why would you–” Choking on a sob, I see him stiffen his back, once again, towering over me.
“There are no lengths I wouldn’t reach, no pain I wouldn’t endure, if it means killing you.”
“But you know it’ll hurt Angie. We’re Heavenly Oath–”
“Not…if I save…your soul,” he huffs. The rise and fall of his chest is in sync with my own. Speechless, my tears continue falling. It shatters me seeing this. So much pain, and for what? What is he trying to prove? What more could I have done to him?
“Why?” My voice is a whisper. He pulls his hair back, and though half of Ethan’s face is coated in blood, I can’t look away.
“Tell me about Rosie and how you met?”
“I’m not telling you shit about her.” I jerk against his aura.
“So be it.” By far the most sinister grin I’ve seen lifts his right cheek, and if fear eluded me before, its presence is now known. Stalking to my jewelry box, he lifts the lid, retrieving an item with one last glance my way.
“What are you–put that back!” I shout, seeing him hold up Rosie’s bracelet, but he refuses. Instead he stalks back to me whilst examining it.
“Who. Is. Rosie? Lie to me, and this room will run red with your blood.” Though he masks it well, trepidation twitches against his expression. What he holds is my most prized possession. Does it have some kind of connection to him? But what?
“There he is. Mr. Big Bad himself. The fay every student fears. But you’re mistaken if you think your threats hold weight.
Now put it back. I’m warning you.” Danger growls, sparking light from the darkest pit of my core, ensuring my grip remains firm on both weapons and that my crystal dagger still lingers.