Текст книги "Darkest distiny"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

THE RATS IN MY HOME WERE fewer than last month.

More blood covered my hands, coating me with murders that barely sated the need for vengeance.

I didn’t know how much longer I could keep doing this.

How much longer I could stop myself from slipping into madness or ignoring the suicidal whispers that promised an end to this misery.

The battle between living to kill and dying for freedom tangled me up until I no longer knew what I wanted.

My hands curled as I stood on the roof and glowered at Cinderkeep below. Fire danced on towering torches and flames flickered in lanterns, turning my prison into the belly of the underworld.

Perhaps I’d already died and didn’t know it.

Maybe I already dwelled in hell.

Whisper nudged my hip.

I looked down at the sleek black beast, and she sprang into my head.

My teeth gnashed together as my poisoned heart kicked.

I needed to kill her.

The longer we spent time together—mainly in silence and tension—the more I struggled with what the fuck I was doing.

Why had I invited her in when I’d kept all the others far, far away?

Why did she intrigue me when no one else ever had?

She was the first person in my entire miserable life who wanted nothing from me.

Not my blood, my life, my company, my legacy, or my lineage.

And that...that did something to me far, far worse than the strangeness of her soothing company.

Being near her eased my constant pain, but the more time I spent with her, the more a different kind of pain appeared.

One that had no cure.

One that grew worse every time we talked.

And for the first time in my pathetic life, I wanted to touch.

I wanted to know what it would be like to give in to the urges catching fire inside me.

I wanted to crack open her head and learn everything she kept hidden.

I wanted to find a way to stop whatever this was because if I didn’t—

Planting my palms on the parapet, I bared my teeth at the night.

I clawed at the stone as another siphoning of pain from the vitalsync core drenched my system.

I hated that she hurt...like me.

I hated that I recognised her agony and sympathised with my enemy.

But what I hated the most was that she affected me.

She drove me into a different kind of madness.

And one day soon, I’d break.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I SMILED AS I RECOGNISED THE tell-tale thud of heavy predator paws.

Right on time.

The night had been silent from Lucien hunting, and I’d spent the day mopping all the corridors in the palace, so I was both achy and drowsy, but sleep remained elusive until my friend arrived.

Swinging my legs down from where I sat by the window, I locked eyes with the golden orbs of Lucien’s panther. “You came.”

Whisper gave a toothy grin and slunk through the shadows to my side.

Somehow, another two days had passed, adding to the illusion of normalcy.

I’d learned to live inside this gilded cage—working, cleaning, pretending I wasn’t becoming mildly obsessed with the monster living within it.

Maybe all my travelling before this had given me the ability to find a home wherever I stopped for a time.

Maybe it was the connection I’d built with Whisper.

Or maybe it was just the madness setting in.

Holding up the bowl of shredded chicken breast I’d found in the fridge, I wriggled it. “Midnight snack?”

The panther huffed and arrowed straight for the offering.

Placing the bowl beside me, I stroked the panther’s huge solid head while he wolfed down the chicken. Leaving him to enjoy his feast, I grabbed the juicy apple I’d left on the windowsill so the afternoon sun would make it extra sweet.

I moaned as I bit into the crisp fruit.

Reclining against the soft cushions, I closed my eyes to enjoy a moment of companionship in the dead of night.

Whisper nudged my knee, searching for more.

“Greedy-guts. No more I’m afraid.”

He growled.

I laughed and stuck the apple in my mouth.

I went to bite, but a sound wrenched my eyes open.

My heart stopped.

A shadow lurched into my doorway, illuminated by the braziers and firelight blazing outside.

Lucien sagged against the doorframe.

Jet black hair hung down his handsome cheeks, shivering as he tipped forward in utter agony. His right hand clutched his heart. He panted as if he’d run here, swaying as if he was moments away from passing out.

Our eyes met and held.

His chest heaved as he braced a hand against the doorframe, his breath sawing in and out, a feverish sheen burning in his eyes.

Whisper rumbled a welcome, moving toward his master, but Lucien staggered inside.

He crossed the room with unsteady strides.

He wrenched to a halt over me, looking as if he’d fall.

I cowered backward, unsure what mood he was in but with a savage groan, he tipped forward, smashed one hand against the window frame, and grabbed my apple with his other. Yanking it out of my mouth, he tossed it over his shoulder.

My pulse jumped as he grabbed my wrist.

“What are y—” I gasped as he jerked me upright.

No warning, no explanation.

He half-stalked, half-stumbled toward the bed, dragging me with him.

When we were close enough, he grabbed me by the shoulders, spun me around and pushed.

I went sprawling.

The black silk nightgown I’d chosen to wear matched his familiar uniform. The only difference was my skin was cool from moon watching and his was ablaze with fire.

The bed creaked as he landed heavily beside me.

“Lucien—”

He hauled me against him, rolling on top of me, his arms banding tight as steel. His forehead crashed to mine, his sweat dampening my skin, his chest plastered to mine with every shuddering breath.

Scalding heat rolled off him as if he burned from the inside out. His whole frame quaked, every shiver full of torture.

I froze beneath him, panic colliding with something else, something worse.

Having him touch me. Crush me. His weight and heat and very existence didn’t just push me into the mattress but soaked into my very soul.

All those days we’d spent in each other’s orbit—silently watching but never thawing. All those hours we existed highly aware of the other but too stubborn to actually talk.

I’d spent more time with this man than anyone else in seven years, yet I didn’t know him. Not enough to be so intimately wrapped up in him or for my heart to become so rebellious.

“Lucien...”

He groaned in response, grinding his forehead harder against mine, clinging to me as if I was the only thing keeping him from bursting apart.

Was I allowed to touch him?

How was I supposed to help when I had no idea what I was doing?

My arms stayed rigid at my sides as his weight crushed me, his breath searing over my lips. He wrapped himself around me as if I were the only anchor left in the world, his hands fisting my nightgown, dragging me tighter into his fevered cage.

My crystal raindrop pendant bruised my sternum, trapped against his chest and mine. We were so close, the cold bite of the circular piece of metal over his heart felt horrifically wrong compared to the rest of his burning flesh.

He groaned again, his forehead sliding off mine as he hooked his chin over my shoulder and buried his face into the pillow. He sucked in a shuddering breath. His body hitched violently. His arms spasmed painfully tight.

Whisper whimpered beside us, his whiskers tickling my cheek as he nuzzled me, probably wondering what the hell was going on.

Lucien cried out, guttural and raw, and...I couldn’t do it.

I didn’t care what he’d do to me afterward or how he’d read the scenario of us in bed together but...I reached up with shaking arms. My fingers hovered above his back, hesitant and wary but he jerked again, and my heart made the decision for me.

I let my hands fall.

His skin was fever-hot beneath his shirt, heat billowing off him like waves from a furnace. My palms flattened on his shoulder blades, trembling as I slid them lower, feeling the tremor of muscles knotted tight with pain.

He stiffened; a strangled sound echoed in his chest.

Skimming my fingers up his spine again, I cupped his nape.

He convulsed.

His thick, damp hair rested over my knuckles as I whispered, “It’s okay.”

Lowering my hands again, I followed the contours and tightness of his back. My thumbs traced slow circles along his spine, kneading out the knots I found.

He shuddered and collapsed completely on top of me, his legs settling between my spread ones, his chest to my chest, and that awful hard disc like a large icy medallion against my breast.

“You’re alright,” I whispered, not sure I was doing the right thing but unable to stop.

He shuddered again, but the violent jerks from before began to ebb. His breath slipped into rhythm instead of chaos, hot and heavy against my collarbone. His furnace heat slowly faded as if being this close to me truly did help calm him down.

I lost track of how long we lay like that.

I didn’t stop to think how it would look to others or what it would mean when we broke apart.

I just kept stroking him.

Whisper yawned and lay down beside the bed, his glowing eyes never looking away.

No matter my friendship with the huge cat, I had no doubt he’d bite my hands off if I injured his master.

Lucien shifted a little, pressing all of himself against all of me.

I stiffened as I became highly aware of all the places where we were joined.

A low, rough sound left him, heavy with relief. His arms unbanded around me, letting my back rest far more comfortably on the bed. One of his hands slid up my side, his fingers splaying over my ribs.

He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding against mine. When he exhaled, it wasn’t a broken gasp but a long, shaky sigh. His body softened, melting against me until he was heavy instead of tense, calm instead of burning.

I closed my eyes as his fingers strayed to my waist. His heart still thundered, but the jagged edge finally smoothed. The medical scent of his fever began to fade, replaced by the faint, bitter flavour of blood.

Tilting his head, his lips moved against my throat—not a kiss, just a slow exhale as his hand slipped from my waist and pressed against the mattress.

I expected him to push upright. To break our overwhelming embrace. But...

His breath ghosted over my throat again, slower this time. Hotter.

The world shrank to the weight of him above me, the burning closeness, the tension that cut sharper than a knife.

In a single breath, he made me ache and ache and ache.

I couldn’t move.

Didn’t want to break the spell or face the repercussions.

His head lifted, skimming his nose along my neck, my jaw...

The air between us throbbed.

The silver disc over his heart pressed against me with warning.

He shifted closer, his hips sinking deeper between my legs as his mouth hovered over mine.

My eyes popped wide, trying to see if he knew what he was doing, knew how close he was to—

Our lips brushed.

He.

Froze.

His eyes flew wide and whatever trance he’d been in shattered. He jerked off me so violently, the silver metal on his chest flared with a red light beneath his shirt.

Snarling, he crashed onto his back beside me, grunting in pain.

And I did what any crazy, almost-kissed captive would do.

I rolled over and burrowed my face into his damp, hot neck. I hugged him as if I could protect him. And incredibly, he didn’t fling me off.

His hand that clutched his heart clutched my arm that I threw over his chest instead. His fingers bruised me as he held on, but just like before...he slowly calmed as if I did have the power to help. As if my presence affected him, just like his presence affected me.

Whisper snorted and paced the edge of the bed, grumbling with worry.

Not daring to move, I whispered, “It’s okay, Whisper. He’s okay.”

With a soft chuff, the cat accepted my assurance, yawned, and flopped down.

Stillness crept over us. Silence eased into the cracks. But Lucien didn’t move which meant I didn’t move.

I lost track of time before Lucien finally exhaled and tapped my arm to release him.

Rolling onto my back, I stared at the ceiling.

Would he kill me for this?

Would he scold me, strike me—

Wordlessly, he pulled up the blankets that I’d shoved to the bottom of the bed and dragged them over both of us.

We lay there, side by side, not saying a damn thing.

I stayed rigid, heart hammering, staring at shadows.

Why wasn’t he going?

He couldn’t mean to stay here, could he?

“Eh...” I cleared my throat. “Are you not leaving?”

Turning his head, his eyes met mine, etched with weariness.

My heart fluttered and that ache between my legs grew a thousand times worse. Pain daggered my temple as I drowned in his stare—in his wariness and rage, the gratitude and distrust.

“It’s a long walk back to my quarters.” He cleared his throat as if that was a lie. Tearing his gaze from mine, he stared at the same shadows I did. “I’m tired.”

I didn’t speak and silence gathered tighter around us.

The longer we lay side by side, the more we slipped over whatever line had been drawn.

My heart raced faster. My skin prickled. And that damn pressure between my legs made me jumpy and needy and—

“I didn’t mean to come.” His voice was thick with accusation as if it was my fault. “I should stay the hell away from you but...” He swallowed hard. “Somehow, I’m here.”

My heart flung itself against my ribs.

Silence fell again before I murmured, “Did you come because I can somehow ease you?” My cheeks burned at the preposterousness of that. At the inexplicable explanation that something was going on, even as we fought against it.

He growled quietly as if his temper couldn’t be contained. “Yes.”

He scowled at the shadows. “I don’t understand why each time you ask me a question, I’m compelled to answer it.”

“Really?” I rolled onto my side, tucking my hands under the pillow and gazing at him. “You’re compelled?”

Lingering droplets of sweat slowly dried by his hairline, long strands of blue-black rested over his forehead. He didn’t turn to look at me, but he nodded stiffly. “I seem to want to talk to you.” He laughed coldly. “Which is ridiculous.”

“How is it ridiculous?”

“The more I tell you, the more you can use against me.”

“Pretty sure I know quite a few of your secrets these days. What’s one more?”

His eyes snapped to mine. “Is that a threat?”

I swallowed, still rationally afraid of what he could do to me.

But then I forced myself to relax because...if he hadn’t killed me by now. If he hadn’t stopped whatever this was, maybe he was as helpless as me.

“Just a fact.” I held his stare, adding quietly, “Besides, you know more about me than you think too.”

His eyes narrowed on mine before looking away again.

Sudden anxiousness made me blurt, “You don’t have to guard against me, you know. I won’t share—”

“If you know so much about me, why don’t you tell the others?” He went deathly still. “What’s stopping you from telling all those women my weaknesses?”

“Simple.” I shrugged. “They’re not my secrets to tell.”

His eyes shot to mine again.

“And no matter what you think of me,” I added. “I’m not here to hurt or betray you.”

He sucked in a breath as if I’d punched him. He flinched, unable to hide raw, startled shock. His stunned, childlike confusion ripped out my heart and snatched it for his own, even as he sneered and shut everything down. “I don’t believe you. If Marcus demanded you to tell him what I’ve been up to away from his cameras, you’d do it.”

“Marcus?” I wrinkled my nose. “Who’s Marcus?”

“The guy who threw you in here.”

Oh yes, I remembered him now.

“Ah.” I nodded. “He’s definitely a piece of work.”

“So you admit it? You’d tell him everything—”

“I’d tell him to shove his questions where the sun doesn’t shine,” I cut in. “Then I’d demand he let me and all the other girls go.” I smiled. “I would also probably ask Whisper to have some fun and see how he likes being the one in trouble for once.”

He didn’t thaw. “Am I supposed to believe that you wouldn’t trade my life for yours?”

“No.” I fluffed up the pillow a bit more, cradling it under my cheek. “But I do expect you to believe that I’m not like the rest who have betrayed you.”

He bared his teeth at the ceiling. “You’re still determined to convince me that you’re not lying.”

“I’m not lying.”

“So even if they offered you five million dollars to either kill me or fuck me...you’re saying you wouldn’t take it?”

I scowled, insulted. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Please.” He laughed with a bitter edge. “Why would you turn down such wealth? You expect me to believe you’d choose me over that? A stranger who bound you in menial labour?” He didn’t look at me, almost as if he didn’t want to see me go back on my previous answer.

“You’re not a stranger,” I murmured. “Not anymore.”

His jaw clenched; he didn’t reply.

I studied him where I lay on my side. The longer I stared at his thick black eyelashes, flawless skin, and sheer agony-rage that always clouded him, the more I wanted to tell him who I really was.

If I told him that five million dollars was a week’s income for me, would that put him at ease? If I told him I was the sole heir and runaway empress of Snowflake Corp, would he even know what I meant?

While cleaning his mansion, I’d come across more correspondence with whoever ran Brimstone Industries. The single flame logo had become very recognisable, even if the contents were mainly boring graphs, forecasts, and meeting minutes.

The fact that they provided him with information about the very company keeping him prisoner was infuriatingly clever and cruel—keeping him involved in the very thing he’d tried to destroy when he was nine (if Laura was right) but was now destroying him.

I’d also gleaned enough to know that his company had done what mine had, and harnessed nature to provide perpetual energy.

The fact that I’d never heard of them filled my stomach with lead because it wasn’t just surprising at this point but suspicious.

How had no one—not one of my board members, researchers, or staff—mentioned Brimstone and the Ashfalls?

We should’ve been all over them. Should’ve tracked their patents and infrastructure, lobbied against them for risk, and done our best to infiltrate the markets they had their eye on well before they did.

And the fact that no one so much as whispered about Brimstone to me made me think that it wasn’t just him that’d been kept in the dark.

“You’re not speaking because you’re having second thoughts?” he finally asked, making Whisper raise his head.

I snuggled lower in the blanket and quietened my mind.

The outside world didn’t matter—not while we couldn’t access it.

Which meant this inside world was far more important because we had to live together. Hopefully harmoniously.

“I can’t convince you of something you don’t want to be convinced about.” I yawned, trying to stifle it into the pillow. “All I can do is tell you the truth.”

He didn’t move.

I waited for him to feign sleep or finally leave, but he shocked me as he slowly rolled onto his side, facing me. “What truth?”

My gaze locked on his mouth.

So close.

So perfect.

I followed the line of his nose, and I lost myself in his eyes.

I completely forgot what I wanted to say.

His throat worked as he swallowed, almost as if he was just as affected as I was.

Whisper huffed, popping up from the floor as if sensing something was going on that needed to be monitored. He placed both paws on the mattress and went to join us.

“Stay down there, you dumb beast,” Lucien ordered.

“Hey.” I scowled. “I told you not to call him dumb.”

“You’re sticking up for him now?”

I nodded, my hair catching on the pillow. “Someone has to after living with you for so long.”

His lips curved in the corners, almost against their will. Beneath all his lethal, murderous exterior, his soul didn’t seem to be made of the same steel imprisoning it. His heart was undeniably broken from loneliness and slightly insane from being trapped, but it was still functioning. Still...human.

I hope.

My own heart swelled and the constant pain in my head faded a little. Whatever healing I’d given him seemed to work both ways. The longer he lay beside me, hidden in the dark where no one else could see or judge us, the more I found peace that I hadn’t felt since before I became an orphan.

“The truth...” I whispered, wrenching his gaze back to mine as I answered his lingering question. “The truth is that you might be trapped in here because of your family’s company, but I ran away from mine because I couldn’t cope.”

He didn’t speak, his eyes dancing over mine as if trying to rip out my secrets faster than I could spill them.

“Your weakness is forced,” I continued quietly. “But me? My weakness is my own nervous system. I told you I prefer to avoid all kinds of pressure, work, and expectations. I’m sure I come across as lazy and entitled, but it’s a coping mechanism.”

Once again, he stayed silent, letting me try to put into words what the doctors had trouble diagnosing.

“There are few names for it and I’m unsure which one I fall into, but psychogenic syncope or functional neurological disorder is probably the closest.”

He didn’t move, his breathing even and steady.

“I get stress-induced blackouts and trauma migraines. However...” I licked my lips, highly aware as his gaze dropped, locking onto my mouth. “Working for you is the first time I’ve been able to handle stress in a very long time. It’s surprised me, actually. I should pass out every time I’m around you with how fast you make my heart race but...there’s something about you.”

I didn’t know what else to add without sounding as if I was using my own condition to manipulate him. I also didn’t want to sound like I was searching for pity and so...I stopped.

Silence fell again, dense and soft.

Whisper settled on the floor and Lucien rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

Time ticked onwards until the drowsiness in my system stuck to my thoughts, dragging me slowly into dreams.

And just as I slipped from this world into sleep, Lucien’s voice tangled with the night. “There’s something about you too.”

My eyes flew wide.

He rolled onto his other side, giving me his back as he added, “I just don’t know if I like it.”