48 #2
His eyes skirt to Clara cowering in the corner.
“Years of building you into a leader, a strong man. You will continue down the path laid before you. Do not allow her to get into your head, Kieran. Women are inferior, manipulative useless holes to fuck. That look in your eyes, it was the same look I gave Emma.
I refuse to let you fall down the path I once did.”
Clara sinks to the floor in terror. He doesn't want me repeating his mistakes. Thing is, she isn't. Purity means shit to me. The darkest part of me seeps from my skin, knowing what I need to do. Clara curls into my jacket, rocking side to side. Her fragility is waning.
Some sick part of me enjoys watching her fall apart, but it doesn't hit the same way it used to.
I know what I need to do to prove my loyalty to Zain, and to make Mortensen believe I'm on his side, just to knock him down to nothing.
Mortensen will fall beneath my crushing weight, but I will lose her for good in the process.
Sometimes you're stuck with the shitty hand life deals out, and you live with the choices you're forced to make.
No more sinking into the shadows, I am the darkness.
I look to Zain. He gives a subtle nod. We have an unspoken understanding. Always have. He knows how far I'm willing to take this just to gain the upper hand and I have to use Clara as a casualty. She may not ever recover from my cruelty. So be it. She was never meant to be mine forever.
“In your head I'll always stay. You'll fit here. You can lead. There is hope for you yet, have I brought you down to conformity?”
Mortensen goads me. His eyes darken. My gaze darts to Clara.
She can't take anything else right now. My eyes slam shut and I fist a chunk of my curls.
A soul shattering cry leaves my throat. I'm not doing this shit right now, not fucking yet.
My insides squeeze. She's been through enough shit, but I know I still have one more final show.
He wants to see how cruel I can be, I'll fucking show him.
My eyes fall closed and I curse. Another step closer to prove I'm worthy in his eyes.
For me, it's another step closer to his collapse.
All eyes fall on me. My face turns deadly.
I stalk over to Clara, prying her from Vesper's grasp.
She stumbles to her feet. Clara's eyes go wide with fear.
She knows this face. The look of a deranged lunatic with the lack of a moral compass.
My incendiary obsession is sure to finally shatter her completely.
For a fleeting moment she almost trusted me.
Almost. A grave mistake on her part. I was never meant to be her savior though; I was always her downfall.
Confusion falls on Vesper's face. She chokes back tears.
I wrench Clara's body against mine in a choking grip.
Her body fights my hold, but I manage to open the office door.
Zain and Vesper trail behind, while Mortensen quietly follows us out.
Somehow, Zain manages to shut Vesper up and silence her whimpers.
With Clara in my grip, I parade her out into the Void, ripping the jacket from her nude body, showcasing her like they want to see.
I exchange glances with Zain. “Hold her down.”
My voice is cold and detached, lacking my usual maniacal cynicism. I could use a hit about now.
Her head snaps around to face me, but she's met with nothing but cold, emptiness.
Clara flashes me a look of pure terror that Vesper matches with equal favor.
“What?” Clara breaths. It's my turn to disassociate.
Her body thrashes against me. For once in my fucked up life, I get no enjoyment out of the pain I'm about to inflict, but I need to establish my commitment to Mortensen.
To the Void. Vesper surges forward just to be held back by one of the Void's females.
Zain and I wrestle Clara to the floor as Vesper's blood curdling scream reaches our ears.
We can't stop now, we've come too far in our plan.
This isn't where I wanted to do this, but beggars can't be choosers in our world.
Gotta desensitize ourselves from the fucked up shit.
Elites crowd around Clara's naked body. Echoing whispers fill the room, no doubt commenting on her marked skin etched with my name.
My depravity knows no limits. Clara bursts into sobbing tears.
Zain holds her wrists firmly to the ground while I crouch down to grip her ankles.
Mortensen's cruel smirk from the corner of my eye pisses me off further.
“Give me a hot poker, NOW.” I grit each word out slowly.
The Void loves using branding as a form of sexual pleasure and ownership.
I won't be using the branded end in this instance.
She belongs to me, not them. This is for her.
A masked Elite parts through the crowd with one in hand.
The end is a deep red cherry. Heat radiates from the tip.
Clara fights harder than I've ever seen, and for a moment satisfaction fills me.
Not for the pain, but for the simple fact she's strong enough to fight .
. . and no one will ever knock her up or take her from me again.
She will never be tied to another man other than me. I'm too invested to let anyone else use her the way I do. On the bright side, I'll never have to worry about pregnancy. I'd be a shit father, anyway.
Sweat breaks out over my brow. The poker shakes in my hand.
I'm numb; disconnected. I pry her legs open with my elbows.
My eyes darken when I skim over her pierced clit up to her marked skin.
I trace my free hand over the lettering and bruised marbling.
Satisfaction fills me, reminding me I'm sick.
Her sobs grow louder and I make the mistake of looking at her tear-stricken face.
I set the poker down beside her and wrap myself against her body. So divine and supple. I kiss her tears, a surprise to even myself. Her fraying voice cuts through the whispers. “You are a heartless beast who feels nothing. I . . . HATE . . . YOU. Please, just let me die.”
Her words lacerate me. I go rigid. My tongue lingers on the shell of her ear.
“All I do is feel,” I grimace, spitting out each word like a toxic venom.
She has no fucking clue. Every waking second of my life has been trying to wield these endless emotions I've been cursed with.
Harnessing the anger and resentment into something greater.
Her pulse beats wildly against her neck, driving me mad.
Her surrender twists something within me.
She will understand I am doing this so she can be safe.
Safe from their depravity. I'll never let anyone get her pregnant.
EVER. This is the only protection I can offer . . . for now.
“You crave power. You crave destruction. Do what you need, Kieran.”
Her eyes sink into me like daggers giving me pause.
A sharp intake of breath fills my lungs.
“I'm . . . sorry, Nightshade.” the words break on my tongue.
Not once in my life have I apologized. I fall back to my haunches, pick up the poker and this time she opens her legs without a fight.
xxx
Applause and hooting ring through my ears. Granite settles in my chest. My vision blurs. Mortensen levels with me, his hand clasping my shoulder. Blood still coats my jeans. Her blood.
“You honor the Void with your sacrifice.”
His words sting, shredding me like a barbed wire but I don't falter.
Clara lays before me shattered, just like Isolde.
Flash backs replay in my mind, but I refuse to let them take hold.
She's not her, yet I still broke her just the same.
Why the hell do I love destroying beautiful things?
Why do I crave power and strength with control?
Am I like him? My eyes draw upward. Zain releases Clara.
She lays in a defeated heap at my feet. The crowd has slowly dissipated; proud I have what it takes.
Zain cradles Vesper in his arms. She's falling apart at the seams.
Again, I look back down at Clara. A strange sensation grips me, pulling me down like an anchor.
The hot poker rests in my palm. I let it crash to the floor, the end still steaming from her flesh.