Chapter 8
For a long time, he simply let him cry. Let him sit on the floor of their bedroom and wail into his arms like a spoiled child.
Leviathan remained several floors below, sprawled across a lounge chair in his private library, a book in his hand, though he had not managed to read, to pry his attention away from the crying boy above him.
He waited.
Minutes.
Hours.
Days.
And when Cullen had finally cried himself out, had finally moved from his place on the floor and started to walk across the room, Leviathan sprang up from his place on the chair and let the shadows swallow him up.
When he stepped out of them again, his foot hit the familiar stone of his bedroom floor.
His eyes instantly fell on Cullen, who had been moving towards the glass balcony doors.
And who now stood frozen, his eyes wide as they came up to meet Leviathan’s.
“What,” Leviathan started quietly, his eyes narrowing at the guilt on the boy’s face. “Do you think you’re doing?”
It seemed to take a few moments for him to speak. Leviathan frowned at the way his face contorted with concentration and pain.
“What’s wrong?” Leviathan demanded, moving closer. “Are you hurt?”
Cullen slapped away his reaching hand, his jaw clenching. “Your…filthy…blood…burned my…throat.”
Leviathan blinked at the rough voice, realizing what he’d overlooked. He reached towards him again, ignoring Cullen’s next flinch as he brushed his fingers against the side of his throat.
“I forgot that the blood burns.” He murmured.
It must have been adrenaline that let him speak so casually before, but his throat was surely scorched.
“It will heal. With time. It’s a burn that I cannot heal myself.
” A lie. But he did have to have some sort of punishment for the scratches Cullen had left on the side of his face.
Not that those weren’t fully healed by now.
Cullen flinched away from his touch and Leviathan dropped his hand. “What were you doing going to the balcony?”
“I was just…” He swallowed hard, clearly in pain. A little prick of glee hit him, making him smile. A good punishment indeed. And it would keep him mostly silent, he was sure. “Going to see…where the fuck I am.” Cullen mumbled, looking nervous. “Since you didn’t answer me before.”
Leviathan’s jaw snapped closed. He knew it was a lie. He knew what that look in Cullen’s eyes meant; had seen it before on thousands of human faces in his life.
But he didn’t push it. Not now. He only raised his chin and moved towards him. “Fine. I will show you around now that you are calmer.”
Cullen flinched as he neared, but Leviathan didn’t try to touch him this time, didn’t go in too close.
He only paused and waited expectantly. After a long moment, Cullen gave a slight nod of agreement and turned to follow Leviathan as he made his way to the balcony.
He pushed the doors open and kept a close eye on Cullen as they walked out onto the wide stone balcony that overlooked a dead world full of nothing but dark, ash-covered lands. His lands.
Cullen took a shaky breath and wrapped his arms tightly around his chest, his eyes scanning the landscape beneath them.
“A world between worlds, as I said.” Leviathan kept his voice soft, focusing on Cullen’s every move from the corner of his eye.
“I made this place long ago, when I was…young.” He frowned at the word.
“It is a place I razed to ash after the Fall from heaven and claimed as my own. A place cursed to exist beside me, hidden away in this otherworldly pocket.”
“And…you choose to live here?” Cullen’s voice was very quiet.
Very careful. Leviathan grimaced internally, but gave a small nod.
Standing in that burning land of lost souls, taken by his own hands in his rage against Heaven…
yes, he had felt quite at home there. His brothers all had similar places they called home, he knew.
There was a long pause. “What do you…want with me?”
Leviathan looked up at him, his eyes falling on his throat, which gave a rough bob, before moving back up to his face. That lovely face that had drawn his eye again and again, in a way that no other one ever had.
“I…want you to stay here, Cullen. With…me.”
Another too long pause. He could hear the brat’s heart starting to race. He wished it wasn’t in fear. But that was another thing that would take time.
“Why me?” He whispered then, his eyes on the dead landscape.
Leviathan’s mouth pressed into a thin line. This was something he had wondered himself. Something he did not have the answer to.
“Maybe because…you deserve better than what you had.” He responded quietly. Cullen turned to give him a confused look, but Leviathan had already turned to go back inside. “Come.”
Better than he'd had? What the hell did that mean?
The question scratched and picked at him as they made their way through the bedroom–he kept his eyes carefully away from the massive four poster bed as they went–and into a hallway lit with more red candles, set into heavy candelabras at regular intervals.
He stared down the eerily long corridor, taking in the lack of doors and windows, and then glanced up at Leviathan. Who still had that stupid smile on his face, his eyes full of expectancy.
He began walking down the hall without a word, and Cullen hesitantly trailed after him. His eyes were focused on the archway at the end of the hall. At the thick stairway he could see there.
Down. He thought in relief. Down from whatever terrifying tower they were in. Down and out.
He could run. He could get home. Even if there was no chance of them taking him back. Even if there was no way out of this dimension. Even if it meant death at the hands of his family. It was better than a life doing…whatever it was Leviathan wanted. Better than being his goddamn lapdog.
So he would wait. A chance would come. He would run and hide and escape…somehow…
Leviathan chuckled softly, as if he'd heard the thought.
But he said nothing as they walked down the steep stone steps.
Cullen kept a hand on the wall for balance as they wound around the staircase.
Demon slayer with balance training or not…
these steps were ruthless and dangerous.
He could easily picture himself slipping and taking them both down with him.
And he could just imagine what might happen if he landed in a heap with Leviathan on the floor…
The other man stiffened in front of him and Cullen wondered again if he'd somehow heard the thought.
But they made it to the next floor down without injury and soon enough they were walking down a new hallway, just as empty and cold as before. He tried to keep track of every twist and turn as Leviathan led him through this strange palace, but it was quickly becoming impossible.
And the eerie red glow that seemed to seep into the air around them from the walls made him nervous. The air was stale and tainted with smoke and each new wall was gray and layered with sharp points every few inches. If he were to touch one he was sure it would cut him.
How could somebody feel comfortable in a place like this? How could Leviathan call this place home, demon or not?
His eyes flicked down to his own hands. The hands that had had claws and had dug deep grooves into Leviathan’s face.
Grooves that were healed now, naturally.
Cullen’s gaze lingered too long on his face, his own pinching unhappily with the knowledge that the wounds were already gone.
Leviathan smiled suddenly and side-eyed him, so Cullen whipped his gaze away, swallowing hard against the ache in his throat.
The next turn in the long string of hallways had him pausing with a jolt of surprise. They’d finally entered a room. Or what could only be described as one.
It was a wide space, with tall walls and a ceiling that disappeared into darkness far above. That strange red light was seeping up through the floor, washing the room in red waves like bloody fog.
Several large archways led off into other dark hallways and across the room, on a raised dais of bones, sat a massive throne. It was a wide chair, made of bones molded together with sharp juts coming out of it here and there and an aura of absolute death surrounding it.
The dark throne of a god.
Cullen exhaled shakily and Leviathan turned to look at him. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
No. No, it was fucking terrifying. A throne of a dark god in a realm that belonged to him, with the monster standing just beside him, looking proud of himself.
His legs shook and his head began to spin.
He didn’t even have the strength to object as Leviathan wound a tight arm around his waist, dragging him closer.
“Calm down, pet.” He murmured against his temple. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Tears choked his already thick throat. He squeezed his eyes closed to shut it all away. The pain of being away from his friends, his family. The fear of this room. That sweet scent that was rolling off of Leviathan and making him feel so dizzy…
He shoved away from him and turned back the way they had come.
“Where are you going?” Leviathan demanded.
“I…I changed my mind. I need…to sleep.” It wasn’t completely a lie.
He had been up for days. Crying and crying, his mind racing through the memories again and again.
And when it had all begun to merge together in a big ball of fucking disaster, he had cried over other things.
His friends, most likely dead after that building collapsed on them.
Dom striking at him and trying to kill him.
His relationship with Walker being over in just about the worst possible way it could have ended…
He had not slept. Had not moved away from that hard spot on the floor.
He was exhausted. And he could hardly fight his way out of here without a clear mind and a strong body.
After a long moment, Leviathan murmured. “Very well. We’ll continue this tomorrow.”
The threat in the words made him feel sick.