19. Raia
RAIA
Sleep did not return until the sun rose, only to greet me with nightmares of Lucen, his cane, and whatever he may hope for me at his brothel.
I have no intention of participating, obviously.
From the moment I wake, plans of escape devour my thoughts, peppered with memories of Azrael and my shame.
As foolish as it might be, I can’t help but feel like I’ve just lost an ally.
Lucen is gone—to work presumably. I have no idea if he’ll hunt me down, but I’m willing to risk it. Surely, I can concoct some elixir to counter the magic of this godsforsaken ring.
When I attempt to will my clothing to Thessaly’s, it remains steadfastly on Lucen’s hangers.
Fuck...
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I shake my head at my gorgeous wardrobe.
Fuck it. I don’t want his memories anyway.
I take the small satchel I came here with, and a few items of clothing and jewellery I’d brought with me from Thessaly’s. All of it is unworn. Too painful a memory to unearth from this small bag, the top of which sits a vial—Thessaly’s last gift to me.
The world around me seems to tilt as I hear the echo of his words in my mind.
Don’t worry, nothing lethal. Just something that will paralyze him and neutralize his powers for a bit should he try to have his way with you.
I zip the leather satchel closed. If he comes for me, at least I’ll have some chance of escape.
Thank you, Thessaly.
My wings can’t carry me fast enough as I make my way—like a mortal—through the streets. Pedestrians flash me dirty looks for flying so low, among those forced to remain with two feet on the ground, but I fear that if I fly overhead and Lucen decides to walk home, he’ll see me.
The route takes me through the neighborhood where I followed Lucen to what I now realize must be his brothel—something my mind still has a hard time grasping.
Against all logic, the nearer I get to it, the more loudly my intuition seems to scream at me to go there. Why, I’m not entirely sure—perhaps so that I may see for myself, and conceive the inconceivable.
When I’m only a few blocks away, I press my wings flat against my back—tail coiling around one thigh in fear—as I draw the hood of my cape over my head. I attempt to will a glamour into place, but even that doesn’t work. It is a thorough magic that this Akash-forsaken ring possesses.
Thankfully, many of the people in this neighbourhood are wearing hoods, trying to look inconspicuous. I blend right in.
I haven’t even rounded the corner of the alleyway, and already I can hear males arguing. Pressing my side against the wall, I hover out of sight, straining my ears to interpret furious, growled words.
“... did the job... want my fucking money?—”
My breathing stills as my stomach turns at the sound of a voice that has haunted my nightmares since Thessaly died in front of me.
Fuck me, you’re pretty.
We can have a little fun, can’t we?
My soul seems to leave my body—whether to simply flee to safety or in anticipation of a cruel reality that I’m about to be faced with.
The need to know somehow surpasses my survival instincts, and I peek my head around the corner to see Lucen snarling with red-faced fury as he thrusts a navy-colored satchel of coins embossed with gold lettering reading The Divinarium into the hands of a male whose face I’ll never forget.
Nor the shade of his dull blond hair, gray eyes, or the burn scars covering the length of his right arm and gloved hand.
“You want your fucking money? Here’s your fucking money.”
A blade appears in Lucen’s hand. Swifter than the other male can react, Lucen impales him on it.
The satchel of coins disappears, freeing his other hand, which he uses to shove the male towards the slanted cellar doors of the brothel.
This revelation, coupled with witnessing a murder, and the sound of flesh and bone meeting stone is too much for my soul to bear.
It was Lucen.
This whole time.
I plaster myself to the wall, forcing too-shallow breaths down my throat.
Oh gods...
How could I have been so blind?
My mind can scarcely grasp what I’ve just witnessed.
I shift just in time for my vomit to spray the stone wall.
The cursing of pedestrians is distant to my ears as I stumble away. After another block, I collapse to my knees at the corner of an alley, unable to draw in a proper breath. The pedestrians around me scatter, eager to avoid the vomiting derelict.
My hands press into the cold, filthy cobblestones. Eventually, my breath returns, steady. And with it, clarity.
Resolution.
Lucen will die by my hands.
Blessedly, the ring on my finger allows me to fold back to Lucen’s townhouse after I procure a few vital implements—namely, rope.
I quickly shower and clothe myself in one of the dresses he favors on me before willing my hair into perfect black, tousled waves.
I line my eyes and paint my lips in his favorite colors.
Prepare his favorite meal.
All while internally singing the chorus to my newest mantra:
This motherfucker is going to die.
The moment I hear Lucen enter through the front door, I paste a demure smile onto my face. Lucen’s gaze devours me the moment he lays eyes on me.
“Sweetling, you’re a vision.”
I hate you.
I loved you.
The betrayal burning a hole through my heart is sure to consume me.
He acts as though no violence has occurred between us. No betrayal. No lies. As though his conscience is clear and he didn’t just murder a male in cold blood. As though he didn’t pay that same male to murder my dearest friend weeks before taking my virginity and telling me he loved me.
He closes the distance between us, pulls me against his chest, and presses his lips to mine.
It takes everything within me, plus the promise of his impending death, for me not to vomit on the spot.
Instead, I give myself over to our kiss.
Pouring every ounce of my rage into it—rage that he mistakes for passion.
Every moment of his flesh upon mine is a searing, excruciating brand in the most soul-crushing way. The promise of retribution is the only thing tethering me to my sanity.
His cock presses hard against me, causing my panic to spike.
“Darling, you’ll make me burn the food.”
His fingers dig into the curve of my ass as I hear the click of the stove’s burners turning off. His teeth nip at my lips. “Problem solved.”
I force myself to chuckle and press a swift but firm kiss to his lips.
“I missed you, too.”
Before he can escalate things, I slide out from between where he has my hips pinned to the counter and usher him towards the dining chair at the head of the table.
The drink caddy on the dining table has everything from liquor to wine to water.
Each one is already laced with a bit of Thessaly’s elixir. The interior of the singular glass is already painted with it as well.
As is the food on the stove and the plates sitting on the counter beside it.
I have left no room for chance or error.
“I wanted to give you a little show..."
He quirks a brow. “Oh?”
I nod, forcing myself to not break character; to not allow the tears burning the back of my eyes to breach the surface as I bite my lower lip to tame a feigned feline grin—when all it wants to do is crumple beneath the burden of this pain.
“Yes... I wanted to wear something special for you.”
His pupils widen, eyes darkening with lust. The thick outline of his cock tests the seams of his trousers.
The words ‘Shall I pour you a drink?’ are on the tip of my tongue, but the growing suspicion in Lucen’s eyes gives me pause.
“Feeling generous, are we?”
My heart thunders in my chest as I perch my bum on the edge of the table and place one foot high on Lucen’s thigh. The sadness darkening my features is as genuine as it’s ever been, even if the words lack verity.
“The last few days have been stressful, Lucen. Borderline traumatizing. But…”
My throat works as I finally allow my tears liberation.
“I can’t bear the idea of losing what we have together…”
I hope you burn for an eternity in the lowest circle of Hell.
“I love you, despite your temper or whatever nasty business you’re involved in.”
Even if what I’m about to do condemns me to join you.
The suspicion in Lucen’s eyes dissipates. He shakes his head, brows knitting together as his large hand curls gently around my ankle. The organ in my chest pounds, eager to escape.
He could snap my ankle like a twig.
Instead, he strokes the length of my calf as he looks up at me.
“I don’t deserve you, sweetling…”
Die a million excruciating deaths.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the sadness and guilt in his eyes were genuine. Maybe they are, and he’s experiencing a rare moment of clarity. Either way, I recognize that I need to match his vulnerability.
The emotion spilling over my cheeks is for Thessaly and the part of myself that died at Lucen’s hands—a sweeter, more innocent, and naive version of myself that has no place in this world.
“Do you still feel the same about me?”
Lucen’s expression tenses.
“I feel many things for you, Raia, but whatever we had, Azrael destroyed.”
He hesitates for a moment as my panic soars to new heights and tendrils of fear wind around my throat. Rising from his chair, Lucen leans over me; swipes away one of my tears with his thumb. “I loved you, Raia... even if you were never mine to begin with.”
What?
I don’t dare to question. Even as my heart stalls.
That same wet thumb traces the curve of my lower lip. “Though the chemistry between us is still... undeniable.”
And your death is inevitable.
He presses a kiss to my forehead before reaching around me to pour himself a drink. “Why don’t you go ahead and change into whatever you wanted to surprise me with, sweetling?”
My eyes slip shut, severing my last tears as he takes a sip of liquor.
Victory.