57
When I wake up again my phone is set neatly beside me on the end table along with a glass of water.
A new pair of pink sneakers, white tank top and a simple black pleated skirt sit on the edge of the bed.
I can't remember the last time I had my phone.
I thought the Void took it from me. The idea that Kieran is finally allowing me freedom is refreshing.
He's kept me shut out from the outside world for so long it's become almost normal.
I wipe the sleep from my eyes and chug down the whole glass of water.
The room is silent aside from the faint beeping from a nearby machine.
At one point someone must have removed my IV.
Strength runs through my veins. This is the best I've felt in days.
I get myself dressed and dabble with the idea of wandering around.
I have no idea who Roland is, or if I have overstayed my welcome.
Instead, I decide to scroll through my notifications while I wait for someone to escort me out.
I'm not looking forward to seeing how my grades have fared.
That is if I'm even still enrolled in Grimshaw at all.
There is no way I can show my face there without repercussions.
It's not safe anymore. I swallow down the anxiety of having to start over, clawing my way to the top. It's a hard pill to swallow.
I power up the device and scroll through endless texts from Vesper and a few from my professors.
A few messages from Val float across the screen.
The endless offers of drugs, sex, and alcohol; a painful reminder of who I am and what I'll always be.
I want to leave my old life behind, even if it's temporary, but I don't see a light at the end of the tunnel most days.
Maybe this whole ordeal was a wakeup call for me to finally get help after this is all over.
The idea has always been laughable . . .
until now. Despite Kieran letting on that this isn't just a provisional thing, I need to behave as if it is.
Knowing it will come to an end will make it less disappointing when the time comes.
Over and over he pours salt in my wounds. I've finally grown immune.
Footsteps echo from the other side of the door.
Kieran, Zain and Vesper pull the door open and slip inside.
Someone else trails in behind them. The same guy from yesterday.
I assume it is Roland. He's older and well dressed, another one of the senior Elites.
Kieran stops in his tracks when his eyes fall to me.
Relief shines through him. “How are you feeling?” Vesper breaks the silence. Kieran licks his lips like a hungry wolf, his gaze fixated on me.
“Fine.” I reply, avoiding eye contact with her. I'm still ashamed.
Kieran approaches and reaches for my hand, lacing his fingers with mine.
He reels me into his side and pecks my cheek.
His trust in me is probably nil. All I've done is run from him, run from this all-igniting pull.
I crane my neck back to look at him. His hair is damp like he's just gotten out of the shower.
His T-shirt smells freshly laundered, flowing into my space and I resist the urge to inhale his addicting scent.
His hollow eyes are bloodshot, sleepless. I don't know why, but it makes me feel guilty even though that's the last thing I should be feeling after everything that's transpired.
“That's my little fighter,” his gravely voice coos. His suffocating presence asphyxiates me in the most satisfying way. “What happens now?” I whisper. It's not like I have the ability to stroll back into school without consequence. I'm not rich, powerful, or Elite.
Roland clears his throat from the corner.
“Kieran needs to make a choice. To right his wrongs and subjugate them before Mortensen loses all dominion. If he does not, there will be an insurrection. The entire upper echelon of Grimshaw is in an uproar.”
Roland's face falls. Does he have such little faith in Kieran?
I read the room. Everyone's expression is sullen, ready to accept defeat.
I squeeze Kieran's hand. His hardened eyes fall to me with dark reverence.
“What happens if you walk away?” I dare ask.
I already know, but I need to hear him say it.
He lets his head fall back. I can visibly see him decay.
This isn't what he wants. He never did. He lets out a puff.
“I'll be expected to be the new Sovereign. If I walk away, I'll raze the Void to the ground. Without any sense of direction, it will fall, but not without casualties. The impure will be taken against their will and used,” he explains, his voice cracking.
My heart sinks at his words. It isn't in my nature to let the world burn around me to save myself.
This isn't a choice I can make for him. I sense his resistance.
His body goes rigid, and I can feel him fading as the minutes tick by.
I sacrifice myself for others. Kieran on the other hand is all for himself.
He could easily walk away as the academy burns to ash behind him without batting an eyelash.
He'd still walk away with a smile on his face and his head held high.
I can't even really blame him; his father screwed him up beyond recognition.
Like me, he knows no other way than to leave a path of destruction in his wake.
I know he needs someone immutable by his side.
Strength is not something I have ever been able to maintain.
Like my countless emotional issues, my state of mind has ups and downs.
Zain cracks his knuckles. “I don't give a fuck what the Elites choose to do. Fuck this place. Never did like it. Either way, Mortensen is fuckin’ done. He took my girl.”
He hooks his arm around Vesper. “Whether Kieran wants to take on the responsibility of being the Sovereign is on him. Who knows if they'd even accept him. Doubtful,” he snorts.
I see through him. He's pushing Kieran's buttons to get a rise out of him.
He knows just as well as I do Kieran is impulsive, but now?
He's weighing his options, trying to not let anger dictate his choices.
Kieran growls, clearly taking the bait. His fingers tighten around my knuckles.
“I don't want this shit, but that doesn't mean I cannot force their hand. I am a fucking Grimshaw. I am their only God. I call the shots. If I want the Void, it's mine to take. I am not beyond any of this shit,” he declares without missing a beat.
I frown. He will always be a callous, selfish bastard, and the fact we're so deeply rooted together has me on edge.
I am too invested to walk away. I am his, and he is mine.
A twitching smirk lifts on the corner of Zain's mouth as he glances in my direction. “You better hope she sticks around for your ass. Fuck knows you don't deserve her," he goads, crossing his arms.
“Out.” Kieran's sharp timbre cuts through the tension of the room.
He relinquishes my hand to take a menacing step toward everyone when they don't comply.
“Can we trust you with her? Might go caveman on us again.”
Zain cocks his head toward me. He looks to me as if I would protest.
If he asked me that days ago I probably would have, but not now.
Kieran explodes. “Don't fuck with me, Z,” he warns.
Vesper tugs at Zain's arm leading him toward the exit, knowing this is something he has to decide for himself.
Roland gives a curt nod. “Take all the time you need.”
I wait until everyone disperses until I speak.
“I will stand beside you,” I declare. His brows knit and he dissects me.
I trace my finger over his flame tattoo under his eye.
I know what I'm offering. If I go down this path, I'll be tainted in darkness, pulled to his stygian depths.
He knows the implications, too. My pulse races.
Tears bubble against my eyelids, ready to stream down my cheeks.
The lines are blurred, but I'm willing to stand in the fire for him letting it engulf me whole.
It is not sympathy that has me agreeing to alter my entire being, instead it is fealty and devotion.
This self-abnegation will set me free of the confines of my mind.
I love him. I just need him to pull the trigger.
His icy tone softens. “My riven queen. Walk beside me until these emotions saturate your inner soul. Every. Last. Emotion. I can offer you an umbral paradise. I can't promise you happiness, Nightshade, but I can guarantee protection as long as you remain at my side. I'm never releasing you.
We're bound together, sweetheart. You're the serrated edge that fits the lacerations of my splintered insides.”
His pierced tongue licks my salty tears like the wild beast he is.
“Can you set me free?” I choke. He wrenches me closer to the hard planes of his chest.
Warmth floods my system. The symbiosis grips my heart like a vise.
“Nah. You're my reflection. Broken. Fucked up. You'll never be free, especially not from me.”
He digs his claws into my flesh. He takes what he wants without remorse, only he will keep me forever until he annexes my soul, devouring it, and what is fucked up, I crave that.
I'm not a sentimental motherfucker, but for her I will be anything she wants and do anything she desires, even grant her the illusion of some sense of freedom.
Even when she twists her knife in my chest, I welcome it.
Only she can hurt me this way. Only she is allowed to make me feel anything other than unrequited rage and hatred.
Fuck, she's the most beautiful Goddamn disaster. The moment I fucked her she was mine.
We're a volatile mix, a dangerous compound, but one I'd not change for shit.
I kiss her again, wrapping her tongue with mine.
So fucking delicious. I want to hurt her so beautifully.
The impulses wage war within me, but I tamper them down.
Right now, Mortensen is the target. The first order of business is parading her around the school so everyone knows exactly who she belongs to.
She'll be my addicting little shadow. She doesn't know it yet but she, too, will be a Grimshaw.
She will be under my protection. This throne comes with the highest level of respect, and she will be seated beside me on it.
The darkness will consume her. And fuck, I know bringing her down with me is jacked, but I've never been one to see reason, mostly from not giving a shit.
She will be the most beautifully shattered queen. All mine.
“I love you.” Her soft voice thrums against my chest.
I freeze, unable to respond. Her words sink into my flesh like daggers.
My skin burns. No one has ever loved me.