Chapter thirteen
Josephine
After my conversation with Vivian, I feel lost and confused. If the earthquake and all that shit from that awful night was me, then who am I? I’m not a witch. That feels wrong. I don’t feel some hidden Magic pulsing through me, but I do know there is a space for something I don’t recognize. It’s that piece of darkness that sneaks up on me.
It’s demanding and incessantly hungry. The only time it seems satiated is with blood or with Aedon, even though I hate to admit it. His presence, his existence, feeds it. I feel sort of like a normal person when I’m involved with him. The sex was so damn good I felt satisfied and full. The darkness had receded, but now I can feel it roaring with a vengeance now that I’m sure it’s there. It’s no longer willing to take a back seat.
I lay on my floor under the window smoking a cigarette, trying to ignore it. I hold a book over my face and try to read, but I forget each word the moment I register it. Flashes of that night sneak into my vision. I can feel the dreaded cold seep into my bones. The fear that gripped my soul as frost crawled up the windows.
Of course I care, Jo. I care about you. I do everything for you, Killian’s voice echoes in my mind.
“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it,” I tell myself. I grit my teeth and try to read another paragraph.
It’s me. I can’t exist without you. I’m in love with you.
I do my best to focus with renewed energy. My eyes scan the pages faster, and my fingers grip the edges of the paper.
I told you. I’d do anything for you.
I toss the book to the side with a scream. It thuds against the wall and slides down in a flutter of pages.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
“Fuck!” I scream, rubbing my hands over my eyes. I haven’t slept in a week since that conversation, avoiding the nightmares that accompany my thoughts. Flashes of the carnage terrorize my closed eyes. I hop up from the floor and pace back and forth, trying to hold them open.
I blink and see the river of blood pooling around the bodies of Kate and Killian. It’s in the room soaking my feet.
“Fuck you!” I yell at the ceiling.
This is why I don’t like to be alone with my thoughts. I stalk over to the bottles of liquor. The first one I pick up is empty, and I knock it to the floor. The next is empty, too, and I growl in frustration. I’ve been drinking too much. I’m so dazed that I can’t even remember buying alcohol in the first place. My fingers finally wrap around a neck that sloshes. I grab a glass with shaking hands and fill it to the brim, gulping it down.
I close my eyes savoring the burn, and I can almost feel the earth around me shaking, and the ground beneath me opening up. I pour myself more and more, sucking the drinks down like my life depends on it. It probably does.
I cough, and I can feel the heat from the fire that licked the fields. It eats everything up, consuming the bodies of Killian and Kate. Vivian’s words haunt me.
When the fire started, I knew it was you… I saw a monster.
I stand over the sink, washing out the glass. I’ve always been a fucking monster. All this time I’ve tried to make myself into one so I had an excuse. I let out another frustrated scream, and the glass pops in my hand. I grip it, letting the shards dig into my palm to ground me. Once I feel a semblance of reality, I toss the remaining pieces into the sink. I’ll clean it up later.
With gasping breaths, I drag myself to the bathroom. My hands are shaking so hard that I can hardly turn the handle to the sink. I let the water run over my palm. The gashes are deep, and they’ll need stitches. Maybe I can let myself bleed out, and I won’t have to deal with this shit anymore.
I look up into the mirror and catch sight of myself. It isn’t me, but it is. I see the monster that Vivian described. Two shiny onyx eyes stare back at me. Instead of my frustrated tears, there are streams of blood pouring down my face. A flash of anger overwhelms me, and I smash my fist into the mirror, shattering it. My consciousness descends into a pit and reality slithers away; the darkness consuming me. I’m trapped with the monster inside.
The sound of shouts cause my consciousness to bubble to the surface. When my eyes pop open, sounds pour in. Someone is pounding on the front door. Not the front door, but my bedroom door.
“Josie, are you in there?” Vivian’s voice calls out to me with worry. I yawn and try to garner control of the situation. What the fuck happened? My hand aches, and I look at the shredded bleeding flesh. Fuck. The door. My sister. My sister has to get her things. That’s why she’s here.
I jump up and yank it open, hiding my hand behind my back. Her fearful expression morphs into a moderately more relaxed one.
“How are you sleeping through all of this noise?” she says loudly. I glance down the hall trying to adjust. There are movers traipsing in and out of the condo banging into shit, not movers, but David, Hermes, and Minos.
My sister glances behind me, her eyes falling on an empty bottle of whiskey I guess I forgot about. The last few days have been a fog of memory. It’s easy to forget when you don’t want to remember. My balance is still a little shaky from my bender. The darkness seems to be placated for now, unresponsive. I give Vivian a sheepish smile.
“Are you okay?” Her question is full of worry. If I tell her the truth she might not move out. She would rearrange her plans just to keep an eye on me, and frankly I don’t want to be babysat.
I follow her out into the hallway. “Fine.”
“Are you sure? You’re welcome at my place anytime,” she informs me. I can hear the double meaning, but she won’t come out and say ‘Hey, about the other day. Are you okay?’ out loud. I’ve been avoiding her, but not for the reasons she thinks.
I’ve mostly been trying to ignore my responsibilities, my own mind, and a certain tall, dark handsome tattooed man. Now I’m out of excuses, and it’s just coming off sad and desperate that I was drunk alone. It definitely paints the picture that I’m losing my mind. I am, but no one needs to know that.
I should wince or something, but I just can’t find the capacity to care. There’s a strange feeling digging into my skin. I glance back over at the men carrying boxes.
“I’m aware. Why are Minos and Hermes here?” I grab the coffee pot and shove it under the faucet. I realize the sink is full of broken glass. Shit. I accidentally drank myself into forgetting to clean up my own rampage.
“David volunteered them,” she giggles, forgetting her worry from moments ago. “Can’t say I don’t hate supervising instead of carrying.”
“Darling,” Bella sits at the table covered in sweat. “Any chance you may want to help?”
“Yes, darling, any chance?” I mock Bella, hoping they don’t notice the glass or my hand, which is throbbing and definitely needs medical attention. I turn on the sink trying to nonchalantly run my burning, bleeding hand under the faucet. Splinters of glass poke out of my skin, jagged and angry, and the flesh is red and puffy.
“So don’t be mad at me,” she begins.
“About what?”
“About the movers.”
I groan. A hangover pounds through my head and throbs all over my body. The coffee maker bubbles and huffs as it tries to brew me the strongest cup known to man. “Why the fuck would I be mad?”
“Good morning, little devil,” a velvety voice says behind me. “Or should I say afternoon?”
I freeze, my body going rigid. Aedon is here in my fucking apartment. I whip around, keeping my fist painfully closed to hide the bloody mess. I’ll have to stitch it later.
“We needed help,” Vivian reasons.
“I’m going to go do something else other than this.” Bella jumps up and runs away as fast as possible.
“On second thought, I think I can help.” Vivian scuttles after her.
Aedon and I stare at each other. I’m a mixture of emotions. A part of me is glad to see him. I would say I feel butterflies in my stomach, but it’s more like bats beating their wings so hard that each thud rattles my rib cage. The other part of me is anxious. I’ve never brought someone into my apartment, and my space feels invaded. I’m used to doing the invading, which I’ve done to him a few times now. My how the tables have turned.
“Let me see.” He pulls my hand to him and examines my palm.
“It’s fine.” I try to pull away, but he keeps a firm grip.
His finger trails the wounds. “You’ll need stitches. What happened?”
I detect a modicum of worry in his voice.
“I broke something.” I’m not sure what to say. We’ve slept together once, and I showed up unannounced on one occasion. Hardly anything to define. This isn’t some cute, tortured look. It’s just embarrassing.
David and Hermes exchange glances and carry more boxes from the dwindling pile. I squirm under Aedon’s gaze.
“Why are you here?” I regain my composure in the short absence of people.
“Vivian needed help. I didn’t know you lived here,” he assures me.
“Here I thought you had finally stalked me.”
He still has my hand in his. Somehow, he is warming me to my core.
“These could get infected,” he informs me.
“I’ll do it later.” I snatch my hand away. I turn to the sink and start picking up pieces of glass. He pushes me to the side and starts cleaning it up for me.
“No, I will do it later. Go back to sleep. I’ll clean this up. When we finish here, I’ll stitch your hand.”
I know there is no arguing the point. When Aedon says something, it isn’t an ask. I take one last look at the sink and then at the coffee. He pulls out the pot and dumps it down the drain, not breaking our eye contact.
“I’ll bring real coffee. Not this sludge.” His smirk melts my insides, but I try to remain impassive.
“Whatever makes you stop yelling,” I grumble and leave. Once the bedroom door is closed, I hear whispers.
“Did something happen?” Aedon says in a low voice, most likely to Vivian. I can almost feel her hesitance.
“I honestly thought she wouldn’t be here,” Vivian whispers loudly.
“Did something happen?” he asks again. I can hear the agitation.
“It’s fine. She goes on benders. It happens.”
I hear his displeasure hum in his chest.
I pull the covers over my head not wanting to listen through the blood pulsing in my brain. I must drift off to sleep because the next time I wake it’s to the smell of food. Good food, not take out. I rub my eyes, trying to remember everything that happened. It takes a few minutes of hard thinking to remember Aedon was in my apartment. Maybe it was a dream. Vivian must have left me something to eat.
I pad down the hallway and into the kitchen. Aedon’s back is to me. A black cutoff shirt hangs around him loosely, and he wears black jeans. He changed before coming back over. He’s standing over the stove, stirring something that smells divine.
“Sit,” he commands, without turning around.
I pull a chair out and fall into the seat. “Let yourself in, why don’t you.”
The forgotten pain pulses through my hand and throbs through my arm. There’s a mixture of shame and exhaustion coursing through me. This man, who I have tried to avoid, is now here making me dinner, and I don’t want him to. A barrier has been broken, and the careful distance between us has somehow been shattered.
He turns and grabs a cup with the same label as the place we went to after the museum and brings it to me, giving me a skeptical look. I put it up to my lips, catching the hazelnut scent. Closing my eyes, I breathe deep, the aroma already bringing me to life. When I open them, he has that beautiful boyish grin on his face.
“Not difficult when you leave your key shoved into a brick jutting from the wall.”
“Did anyone see you?” I ask.
His smile fades. “Just some guy in a chair downstairs.”
“Great,” I groan with displeasure.
“I told him I was grabbing more things for Vivian,” he says flatly.
“Thank you.” I give him an appreciative smile.
He returns to the stove. “Why do you live here?”
“Can everyone stop fucking asking me that?”
“I know you contribute to the clinic. You have the money.”
“Did Vivian tell you that?” I didn’t want anyone to know about that. It’s why my donations are fucking anonymous.
He leans against the counter next to the stove with his arms crossed. “It was business, not personal.”
“I live here because I like it. Money isn’t everything.”
“Fair enough. The environment is certainly interesting.”
“Are you cooking?” I go over to the stove to peek at the pots.
“I am. Vivian said you don’t eat much.”
“She says a lot, apparently.”
“Not as much as you think. Let me see.” He reaches out, signaling for me to bring him my hand, and examines it gently. “I saw the bathroom. I can’t say I’ve ever done anything quite so magnificent.”
“I’m sorry. It’s a mess. I’ll take care of it,” I blurt out. I feel fucking stupid. My bouts of rage are supposed to be private, not a big display of my own embarrassment and shame for the world to see.
“I already did.” He peers at me. “I don’t think you should be. Sorry, that is.”
We stare at each other until I brush my hands over the bottom of my oversized shirt. The splinters and shards of silver send pain shooting through my entire body, causing me to wince. I look like a mess just standing here in a shirt and underwear.
“I’ll fetch some tweezers. Where do you keep needles and thread?”
“What makes you think I sew?”
“I can’t imagine this is the first time this has happened.”
“Cabinet under the bathroom sink,” I sigh. It seems all I do is sigh with complacency anymore when it comes to Aedon.
It’s strange having him in my space. I’d have thought he would look out of place, but he doesn’t. I like that he came in and cleaned up the mess. That he cooked me dinner and took control of the situation so I didn’t have to, for once. I’ll never tell him that. When he returns his hands are full of supplies.
Aedon pulls two chairs together. “Come sit.”
I ease myself into the seat and stick my hand out. He lays it in his lap and grabs the tweezers, tugging at each splinter. Every time his skin touches mine it tingles.
“Stop moving,” he commands.
“I’m used to doing this myself.”
“I can tell.” He threads a needle. “Are you ready to be honest?”
“About what?”
“What was the,” he waves his hand around, “about?”
“I don’t want to talk to you about it.”
“I’m probably the only person you can considering you hid all of this from your sister. So, what happened?”
He patiently waits for me to elaborate, and I cave. “Life stopped being a mystery.” He doesn’t say anything, just focuses on each tug. Glass plinks onto a plate he set next to him. I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “I just see things sometimes.”
“Demons or ghosts?” His focus doesn’t drift from my hand.
“Does it matter?”
“I have my own demons.” He says it nonchalantly, but there’s something dark that flashes in his eyes.
I force a laugh. “Mine are fucked up and repulsive.”
“Mine quite like yours, actually.” The air buzzes with something I can’t identify. Dread, or maybe it’s lust?
“Is it over?” I ask hesitantly, avoiding what he said.
Blue eyes peer up at me through dark lashes. “Not exactly. You’re not going to like the next part.”
Aedon pulls the needle from the table with a thick clear thread. Something strikes me about him. Underneath his asshole demeanor he is kind in a rough sort of way. I finally get a good look at him. He’s focused and trying to be gentle.
“Fuck.” I jump at the contact of the needle, causing him to stab me. His grip on my wrist tightens, stilling me.
Aedon smiles mischievously. “I thought you do this all of the time?”
He waits for my reaction, ready to drink it up, and I try not to give him the satisfaction. Aedon wants me to rebuttal, and I can't help myself, so I walk directly into his trap.
“You’re just bad at it.”
I can see the excitement in his eyes. He’s pleased with himself. “Could have fooled me,” he teases.
“Why are you here?”
“In this world, or right here with you?” His words are careful, but I’m too stunned to say anything. I will force him to give in. He ties off a set of stitches and leans back, stretching. “I’m interested in you, Josie. I thought I made that clear.”
“Before or after you fucked me?”
“Both.” He smirks again. I’m plagued by a wave of need. I didn’t miss him, that would be against all my beliefs. His presence just throws me for a loop, and he knows it. It’s confusing. I want to be annoyed, but I can’t. I just feel relieved. He’s distracting me from this awful process.
“How many of your conquests do you sew together and cook dinner for?”
He ignores my prying statement, focusing back on the split skin. “We have a lot in common.”
With each tie off and snip, I fall deeper into a strange sort of comfortability.
“What makes you say that?” I huff.
“Tortured souls are drawn to each other. That’s what my father says anyway.”
He was drawn to me. At least that’s what it sounds like, and his admission makes me feel good. I take my fingers and impulsively trail one of the tattoos on his hand that he’s set on the table, feeling the static buzz at my touch. He closes his eyes and doesn’t move a muscle.
“Feels good,” he quietly mutters. I pull away, and he opens his eyes, quickly clearing his throat.
“What makes you think I’m tortured?”
“The amount of glass I cleaned in this place was astronomical.” His arm twitches. He wants me to touch him, but he won’t say it. He stands abruptly, cleaning up the remnants of glass and returning the supplies to the bathroom. “I would tell you to get a new mirror, but I know you won’t.”
He returns again, leaning against the wall keeping the distance between us.
“What is there to look at?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll look at you for the both of us.”
I train my eyes on the wall and tap the fingers of my uninjured hand on the table. “What did you make?”
“Thought you looked like someone who likes pasta. I should get going.” He gives me a small smile and starts to leave.
“Wait,” I say quickly. Aedon stops in the doorway but doesn’t face me. I don’t want him to go yet. I can’t fall back into the abyss I crawled from.
“Yes?” His voice is gruff.
“Stay. Eat with me. I mean you made dinner might as well eat some since you’re here.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever put myself out there. My inner demons are begging for his presence, crawling on hands and knees toward him. When he turns around, he looks like he’s thinking about saying no. He’s full of shit. All he does is ask me to stay.
“I suppose I could,” he says with a smirk, closing the front door and rooting in the cabinets for plates. Without asking, he piles pasta and sauce on one and brings it to me.
In my apartment, things feel different. Maybe it’s because he’s in my personal space. It’s making me feel vulnerable, but after last night all I want is his company, even if I want to think I don’t. I can allow myself one night. I want him to stay so badly that it hurts. When his presence starts disappearing it feels like a loss, and I grieve it.
“Where did you learn to cook?” I ask, twirling the noodles onto my fork before stuffing them into my mouth. It’s divine, of course. I’ve been on a liquid diet for days.
He grabs two glasses from a cabinet and fills them with fresh water. “My mother. She thought it was important.”
“The whiskey is over there.” I nod to the bar cart.
“I think you’ve had enough of that for at least twenty-four hours.” Aedon has a point. We eat in comfortable silence, unlike when we were at The Alibi. He isn’t pressing me for information, and it’s kind of unnerving. I’m used to the games.
“You’re not going to grill me?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”
“No.”
Hoots and hollers erupt from the open window. Something crashes, and it’s followed by fits of laughter.
“I see why you like it,” he says unsolicited when we finish eating. He picks up the dishes and cleans them. It’s such a basic thing, but it turns me on. This man who has the looks of a god and oozes luxury is just doing mundane tasks.
“Like what?” I ask, trying to suppress my arousal.
“This place. It's loud and distracting. Do people always party like that outside?”
“Not always.”
“Sounds like they’re having fun.” When I don’t say anything, he tries to recover. “I should go. You’ll be okay?”
Fiona and the others be damned. Let them gossip.
“It can be dangerous around here at night for a pretty boy like you.” I busy myself, trying to wipe the counter off. I can feel him at my back, and when I turn around, I come chest to chest with him.
“Ask me what you want to ask me, love.” He peers down at me over his nose, looming over me in an intimidating way. His deep blue eyes are like a hurricane pulling me in.
“All I’m saying is that you could stay if you needed to.”
“Ask me.” Amusement is splayed across his gorgeous face. He is going to make me ask him, and I’m going to give in.
I look away, avoiding his heavy gaze. “Will you stay, Aedon?”
“Of course.”
I relax, and he steps backward. I don’t want him away from me, but I’ve already asked for too much by asking him to stay. I hate that I want him here. I stalk over to the linen closet, irritated with myself, and pull out some blankets and a pillow, thrusting them into his chest.
“Couch is over there,” I mumble before heading back into my room.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, I torture myself as I lay there. Aedon is twenty feet away, and I want him on top of me. The memory of the last time we had sex is torturing me. After too many minutes of lying there, I finally get out of the bed and creep into the hallway. The place is dark. All the lights are off. He must have shut the place down. I usually just leave it all to burn out. I can’t tell if he’s awake, but I can’t take it.
“Pssst,” I whisper.
“We’re alone. Why are you whispering?” he laughs from the couch.
I run my fingers over the fresh stitches. “I didn’t know if you were sleeping.”
“I have never been more wide awake in my entire life.”
Shouts and cheers continue outside.
The words are already spilling out of my mouth before I can think it through. “Are you coming?”
He sits up, blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. His hair is disheveled, and he looks fucking breathtaking. “Do you want me to?”
“Only if you want to.”
He stands up and strides over, pausing in front of me. One hand braces the threshold overhead and the other caresses my cheek. I instinctively lean into him, closing my eyes. His lips gently brush mine, and I kiss him.
He pulls away with eyes full of uncertainty. Instead of kissing me again, he pushes me into the room and down onto the mattress forcefully. I’m fully awake. The prospect of him touching me is too much to bear. He tries to climb over me into the bed, but I wrap my legs around his waist, grinding myself against him with only my underwear separating us.
“Josie,” he warns in a husky voice, the s sounding like the sexiest z I’ve ever heard. “You’re upset.”
“And?” I grind against him again. He sits back and rests his palms on my knees lightly, trying to remain calm.
“I respect you,” he says through gritted teeth.
“What if I don’t want to be respected, Aedon?”
Something animalistic flares in his eyes. “You’re playing with fire.”
I sit up, pressing my chest to his torso, looking up at him with innocent eyes. My hands slide up his thighs over his hardened cock, and I brush my fingers against it, teasing him. “I like to watch things burn.”
He shudders, and his hands shake, gently stroking up and down the outside of my thighs. “You should sleep.” His voice drips with need.
“Aedon,” I purr.
“Stop looking at me like that, love,” he warns.
I unbutton his pants and slowly drag down his zipper. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. I pull him out, and he doesn’t protest. There’s a bead of pre-cum glistening on his slit. I look back up, and he’s watching me. I slide my palm over his shaft, and he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing.
“Little devil.” His second warning is raspy. I pull away and crawl to the edge of the mattress on all fours. He watches me as I stick my tongue out and start near the base, sliding it up his shaft, sucking on the tip before releasing him.
“Enough,” he commands, lifting me up into his arms. “What is it that you want from me?”
I shiver and think about what he said. What do I expect of Aedon when I give nothing in return? I don’t know what I want out of my life other than the satisfaction of making bad people bleed, but I do know that I want him. I should be cautious and wary with everything going on, but I’m so lost. Aedon makes me feel like I’m not so alone. I just want to lose myself in him. Feelings are not my strong suit, and I’m feeling them heavily.
“I don’t know what to say.” I struggle with the words. He can see my unspoken admission in my eyes.
“If you don’t tell me what you want, Josephine, I’m going to take it. You can either actively participate, or I will make you.”
“I can’t.” My voice is strained with emotion and shame. Something so simple is too difficult for me. “I don’t want to think tonight.”
He softens. “If you want me to tell you what to do just ask nicely.” He grins with glittering eyes. “Love.”
He can read me so well. As much as I hate it, it’s exactly what I need. “Aedon? Please tell me what to do.”
There is no beat between the end of my sentence and the start of his demands. “Get up. Undress.”
“Yes, Aedon.” His nostrils flare, and a fire burns in my pelvis.
Slowly, I pull off my shirt. I hook my fingers in my underwear, but he lifts his hand, stopping me. He slides his fingers over my chest, caressing my breasts in the palms of his hands and squeezing lightly. Then his thumbs run over my nipples in small circles until they’re hard and pointed.
He kneels, and his hands move to my lace panties, slipping his finger over the cloth between my legs. Instead of touching me, he touches the wetness that has seeped through them.
“It’s been torture, Jos,” he breathes, eye level with my stomach. His fingers hook into my panties, and he slowly pulls them down. “Craving you.”
I slide out of them, waiting for his next demand.
He stands tall. “On your knees.”
I oblige immediately. He looks caught off guard with how obedient I’m being. I wasn’t kidding, I just don’t want to think. I spit on my hand and wrap it around the base, my fingers barely touching. I stroke him slowly, watching more pre-cum glisten from his slit. I push him into my mouth, torturing his tip, watching him squirm and pant.
“Fuck, Jos,” his head falls back. “I swear I’m going to marry you.”
Every man says that when you have his dick in your mouth. My wetness coats my thighs. I want to feel him inside of me, but it feels too intimate in my room and in my bed. I’m having too much fun torturing him. It’s a different kind of torture than I’m used to inflicting, but more satisfying. I wrap my lips around the head of his cock again, humming with delight before I release him. His veins are blue, pulsing blood through his length.
“Why? So I can be your personal whore?” That’s what he really wants isn’t it?
His fingers thread through the hair at the nape of my neck painfully, and he yanks my face up to look at him. I squeak in surprise.
“Don’t ever call yourself a whore again. Do you understand?” he ferociously growls.
My chest heaves from the thrill. “Yes, Aedon.”
“Good girl,” he releases me. “Now wrap your lips around my cock and give me a reason to come.” I put him in my mouth again, circling my tongue around the tip. His hands grip the sides of my head. I bob faster and faster, taking cues from his heavy breaths.
“Shit, Jos. Don’t stop,” he struggles.
I take him down my throat, struggling for air and choking on him. His dick twitches, and I feel hot cum spill down my throat. I keep sucking until his grip on my hair lessens. I pull away, wiping my mouth. I climb into my bed, patting the space next to me. He looks confused, but eventually I feel his heavy body slide in next to me.
My mind is blank. My late-night thoughts are silent. I curl into him against my better judgment, and my eyes shut before sliding into the abyss of Hypnos. There are no caves; no onyx eyes; and no drowning. It’s just me and the darkness, and Aedon.
In the morning he’s gone, leaving me alone.