53
Blackness.
Some people are destined for a bountiful life, others are sentenced to a hard unfair existence.
But when you reach the end, the point of no return, it's hollow.
Sadness takes hold; an unremitting siege of one's inner soul.
It's like an endless fall into the abyss.
So when my eyes snap open and the world around me is no longer muted, it shocks me like an evil sadistic surprise.
The universe has a strange way of playing things out.
Death had me in his grip, just to let the world unleash endless turmoil upon me.
It almost feels like a cruel joke. Gentle fingers rub soothing circles over my knuckles.
I muster up the strength to force my weak body forward.
Kieran's hooded mossy eyes lock in on my every movement.
His hand falls away from mine. An endless flood of emotions current through me.
Pain. Hurt. Distrust. Hatred. Love. Disgust.
It makes my head hurt. The rational side of me wants to get as far away from the beast as possible, but the irrational part demands I pull him close.
“Get . . . away . . . from . . . me,” the words fall weakly from my cracked lips. My throat is dry like sawdust. His face is unreadable as always. I fully expect his sarcastic remarks and devilish smirk, but he surprises me with bleakness.
“No.” He falls back in his seat. His hands rest casually on his thighs.
I take a moment to memorize his features.
His facial hair has grown into a dark, shadowy stubble.
His curls are unruly and frizzy. He wears that deadly charismatic charm that threatens to pull me in.
Each time I make the same mistake of crawling back to him. No more, Clara.
“You're Satan incarnate. I hope you fall into the pits of hell and burn.”
I choke out. My hands grip the oxygen tube and rip it from my nose.
Kieran cocks his head, watching me die a little more on the inside.
“Oh, Nightshade, I'm going to hell. That's a fact. But not before I allow you the vengeance you deserve; we both deserve.”
His shadowy figure reaches out and traces his thumb over my dry lips.
His fingers move to wipe the tears from my cheek.
I slap his cheek. His head snaps to the side with a lopsided grin.
“Harder,” he coos. I burn him with my fiery gaze. “There she is.
You're a fighter, sweetheart,” he murmurs.
My eyes narrow. He's delusional if he thinks I'll allow his charismatic smirk to reel me back in.
I swing my wobbly legs over the bed and crowd his space, surging forward.
Stupidly I underestimate how weak my body has become because my knees give out.
I collapse into his arms. He catches me effortlessly.
His arms surround my skin in a silken cocoon.
He kisses the top of my head tenderly, but I know it's a facade.
Another form of mind games no doubt. He is incapable of affection.
A wicked terrorist.
His whiplash is leaving a lasting hole in my insides eating straight through my heart.
“No. I'm not a fighter. The devil is toying with me. I couldn't even succeed at ending my own life.”
I choke out a frustrated sob. My fingernails dig into his Henley.
I inhale his scent greedily. He grips me tighter, yanking me against the hard plains of his chest.
His eyes fall to mine. “You don't get to leave me,” he declares, as if he has a say over whether I live or die.
As if he needs to control everything he touches.
I lose myself in unhinged, chaotic uncontrolled laughter that coils in my chest. “You're kidding me, right?”
He gently steers me back onto the bed. I'm too weak and too damn tired to protest. His grip is iron and unrelenting. “I would die for you; I would fucking kill for you,” he grits.
My stomach churns. His sparkling eyes drill into me with promise.
He remembered every word of their last conversation. She remembered what he never said.
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A heavy lump forms in my throat, weighing me down.
The seconds drag on. He's draining me of life.
I can't hold on much longer. His master manipulation has a hold on me.
His eyes fall to my lips. I hear him in my thoughts.
All I want is to be immune to his hypnotism.
He surges forward like a wild animal. His lips slam against mine, devouring my soul, ripping apart my inner sanctum.
I'm helpless to his touch. My heart skips a beat.
A rush of endorphins burst through my veins.
His arm snakes around my hips, clasping to the small of my back.
I arch into him. He scoots my ass along the edge of the bed so I'm nestled between his thick, meaty legs.
His kiss grows more insistent and urgent.
His darkness seeps into my veins. His other hand dances along my skin before threading through my silken strands.
His muscles ripple under my touch. The heat radiating from his skin is a raging inferno.
He breaks the kiss to whisper dark scripture in my ear.
“I'm like him. A merciless beast who loves the destruction of others, but now I've had a taste . . .”
His lips stamp kisses along my jawline. “Mine.
You belong to me. Fuck purity. I'm selfish. I can't help it.
Be my riven queen. Let's burn the empire down together.”
He pulls back leaving me breathless. Truth shines through his beastly eyes. I search for deception knowing I'm at his mercy.
“Am I your sacrifice?” I rasp, afraid of the answer. He strokes my cheek reverently. “You're my equal.”
His irises hold a haunting darkness that draws me closer to insanity.
I'm ready to fall over the edge. He is rewiring my internal being.
I've never been equal to anyone in my entire existence.
Growing up, I was looked upon as less than by men.
As I worked my way into Grimshaw hoping to be accepted, even then, I was never equal to the rich Elites.
I was always pegged as the poor outsider.
I kept my past a secret, but it did nothing to mitigate the downfall.
“You're running from the unknown. You're self-destructive. Let me give you the vengeance you need to fill that void.”
He peppers kisses along my tear-soaked cheeks.
I meet his addicting glassy green irises.
No one has ever offered me a sliver of happiness.
Though, it comes with a caveat. I know I will lose myself to his darkest desires, allowing it to swallow me whole until I become someone else entirely.
“What about you?” I whisper. He lifts me in his arms and gently lays me back onto the cool sheets. “What of me, Nightshade?”
“You're just as self-destructive, Kieran. This is unhealthy. Whatever we have, it isn't normal.”
He crawls onto the bed, prowling on top of me.
His body dwarfs mine, falling over me like a dark shroud.
He traces soft circles up my exposed stomach, overtop of his scarred name. Shallow breaths leave my lips.
“Some of the best delicacies of life are bad for you.” His words make me shiver. His eyes pierce into my fragile past. He's aware how volatile we both are. Like two chemical compounds being fused together into one destructive mix.
I shake my head. “No. This isn't right. I was supposed to be better,” I whisper to myself.
His cool fingertips dance along my hip. “Nah. Can't you see? This is better. We've both had fucked up lives. Let that pain and anger fuel your vengeance. You're better off this way. Let the darkness pull you under until the light is a spec in the distance.”
His words penetrate my thoughts, teasing me with the chance of happiness.
Though temporary. His tempting timbre pulls me under his spell.
I know he's using his guile to manipulate me to do his bidding.
After all is said and done, I'll be the same broken disaster I've always been.
His vendetta against his father has nothing to do with me.
I was played by Mortensen just as I'm being played now.
The only difference is his beguiling nature threads me like a needle.
“What more do you need from me?”