26. Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Five

Vincent

T rue to her word, Stephanie left the next day. It's rare that someone can make it out of Salem with no strings attached. She obviously knows that and is running like hell in case they try to rescind that allowance. It pisses me the fuck off, that she would leave because of her own cowardice, when her niece is very much not okay.

You can't convince me that she doesn't know more is going on with Skyla. Despite her not outright bringing up the stalker, the way she spooks at the slightest sound or creeps around every corner like she's waiting for someone to get her is obvious. If her aunt can't see that, she's either a fucking idiot or a selfish bitch.

In the following days, we all kept our regular routines– to class and back here. Asher has been driving her to and from, rendering that little gutter snake Wesley useless. I don't like how he watches my Siren, how he lusts after her. It makes me want to carve his fucking eyes out.

Liam and Ronan have great excuses for being seen at the house often, Asher actually likes them. Not that I think anyone is watching the house too closely these days. According to Ronan, his brother's interest with Skyla and Asher has waned as he focused in on what the other legacies can bring to the table.

Still, never hurts to be too cautious. I always park my car down the block and take alternating routes to get in the house just in case anyone does catch on. Though, after Wesley's security overhaul, even I can admit that has proved to be more challenging.

When I approach the house, I notice that the garage door is open. Asher's Maserati, that he drove this morning, is parked and empty. And the goddamn moron forgot to close the garage door. I'm gonna kill him.

I sprint across the driveway, ducking into the garage before hitting the button to close it. Kicking the door open, I storm through the house, finding him and Skyla laughing on the couch. I slip behind him, wrapping my arm around his throat and securing him in a headlock.

"Vincent! What the hell!" Skyla shouts, as Asher begins wailing on my arms, his oxygen quickly fading.

"Let him go! He can't breathe!" she screams.

"Good," I grit, as my eyes lock on his. "He left the garage door open! He put your life in danger, again . He's wasted too many chances. He's a liability."

Asher's face begins to turn blue, and Skyla's screams are more frantic when two sets of hands pull on my shoulders, ripping me away from Asher. I hear him choke and gag for breath as Skyla soothingly rubs his back, shooting me a furious look.

I attempt to shrug Liam and Ronan off me, but they hold on tighter, pushing me against the wall as Skyla stands to confront me.

"I was supposed to shut the garage door. He asked me to do it since he had groceries in his hands, and I said sure. I must have forgotten. I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough, Siren! Don't you see how dangerous this man could be? Not just with what he could do, but what he knows? Asher swears he is capable of protecting you, he should be double and triple checking that he can actually back that statement up."

Skyla opens her mouth to argue when Asher nods.

"You're right. I should have made sure. That was on me."

"Fuck yes, it was!" I seethe, still not able to let go of this anger inside me.

I feel my entire body trembling, hate and anger boiling through my veins as I close my eyes, taking in shaky breaths and blowing them out. Nothing works, though. Nothing ever works.

Skyla frowns, looking at me seriously as she crosses the room, stopping just a few inches shy of me. Hesitantly, I watch as she carefully lifts her hands, cupping my face gently as she speaks.

"What's wrong, baby?"

I feel my racing pulse slow just a bit. My blinding anger is pushed to the side for a moment as I stare at my beautiful siren.

"I'm trying to protect you."

"I know, you always are, and you do it so well. Why are you this angry, though?"

I don't know how to respond, so I don't. Instead, I lift my hands up to her wrists, carefully pulling them away from me before I head out the back door. Liam and Ronan finally let me go, and I slam the door shut behind me as I stomp off into their backyard.

Pulling a cigarette from my pocket, I light the end before tossing my lighter into my jeans, taking a long drag of that sweet nicotine as I stare off into the distance. Drag by drag, my cigarette slowly shrinks until I'm dropping the butt on the ground, stomping it out before tossing it into the trash can out here.

The door cracks open and I don't have to turn to know who it is.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"Yeah," I answer stiffly.

"Liar," she says, coming around to meet my eyes.

She smiles at me softly, but I don't match it. Instead, I hold my arm out in offering, and she instantly takes the invitation, burrowing herself into my side as the chill of the November air ripples through her.

"You should go inside," I say.

"Only if you come with me."

I shake my head.

"Because of Asher? It was a mistake, Vincent. I know you two don't get along, but he feels bad, so do I. I should have just shut the door. It was simple enough. I don't know why I didn't. You should be upset with me, not him."

I look down at her and shake my head.

"I could never be upset with you, Siren. It's not your responsibility to keep yourself safe; it's ours."

"Doesn't that seem a little backwards to you?" she teases.

"No."

Her smile flattens, and she nods, staring off in the same direction that I am.

"Well, what's the plan? Are we just going to move out here? I gotta say I wish I would have packed a jacket or something."

Wordlessly, I slip off my leather jacket and wrap it around her shoulders before zipping it to her chin. She smiles up at me softly.

"I was kidding."

Shrugging my shoulders, I slip my hands into my pockets. I need to get the fuck away from here, at least for the night, preferably longer. I know that if I even see Asher's goddamn face, I'm sure to beat it to a pulp, and as much pleasure as it would bring me, I know how much pain it would bring my siren. So, I refrain. Like always.

"Wanna go somewhere with me for the weekend?" I ask.

"Just the two of us?" she questions.

I nod before turning to face her.

"Where?"

"In the hills, near where I took you to that spring."

"When would we leave?" she asks, as she crosses her arms.

"Now."

"Like right now?" she asks. "It's a little cold for a bike ride, don't you think?"

"I drove my car today. What do you say?"

She rolls her lips together in thought before she nods.

"Okay, let me go grab some clothes."

"I'll meet you outside the gate," I say, gesturing to the front gate of the house.

Skyla nods as she slips back inside, handing me my jacket before shutting the door. I slip it on, inhaling her sweet perfume that is already lingering against the cool leather. My steps quickly cross the yard, slipping through a shortcut in the trees that drops me right out to my car. I hop inside and fire up the car, before popping off the plates just in case. I'm not sure if anyone would think to follow us, but I'm always acting on the side of caution.

Once that's done, I drive the block to their house, pausing just outside the gate.

My car has the darkest tint on the market, so no one can see in, only out. It makes jobs that much easier, or in cases like this, where I am taking my girlfriend away to without anyone knowing who she is getting in the car with.

She steps out the front door, kissing Asher as she does, before making her way down the driveway and to the gate. It swings open before she can reach it, and Ronan nods at her from the doorway. She gives a grateful wave before slipping into the passenger seat. I already turned on the heated seats, and I have the heater on full blast for her.

I watch as she practically melts into her seat, tossing her tote bag into the back.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

"You'll see."

The sun is beginning to set when we pull up the long wooded driveway. I haven't been here in years; hardly even thought about it, really. I'm not sure why it was the first place that popped in my head that I wanted to take her, though.

I look out at the simple two-story log cabin. It's nothing compared to what many of the Elder's possess. My parents loved it though, so did I.

"Whose cabin is this?" Skyla asks as I undo my seatbelt.

"My family's," I say, as I push open my door and come around to get hers.

I grab her bag from the back, before lacing our fingers together and walking her up the front steps. My keys feel heavier than normal as I fish them out of my pocket and insert the key into the deadbolt. It turns with ease, an eerie creek echoing through the cold house as the door swings open.

The smell of wood and must instantly permeates my nose, and though some may not like it, it feels like home to me. Flicking on the light, the entire place glows at once. I'm glad I didn't have the power cut here.

Shrugging off my jacket, I toss it onto the couch before moving to the fireplace.

"Make yourself at home. I'll start a fire."

"You can start a fire?" she asks with raised eyebrows. "Like out of two rocks or something?"

"I can, though sticks are easier to get things going. Tonight, I figured I'd settle with a lighter, though," I say as I pull my lighter out of my pocket, lining up some of the old kindling before lighting it.

"Hmm, too bad. It would have been hot to see you start it with your bare hands– all tough and rugged. Like a mountain man," she says, with a teasing smirk.

I scoff and shake my head, fighting back a small smile as I grab one of the pre-split logs, setting one on for now so I don't smother it. After a minute, I add another two, and the fire takes off from there, intense heat immediately radiating from the fireplace as I stand up.

Skyla's eyes are roaming around the room, all the way up to the vaulted ceilings and the loft on the second floor. The kitchen is open but it's not huge. Everything is just the way I remember– simple, minimalistic, perfect.

"How long has it been since you've been here?"

"About seven years," I answer, before I move towards her, resting my hands on her hips as I look down at her.

She frowns. "Why so long?"

I shrug. "Didn't feel like coming back without them."

"Your parents?" she guesses.

I nod but don't speak. We've never discussed the death of my parents. Mainly because there isn't much to tell. One day they were here; the next, they weren't.

"What were they like?" Skyla asks.

I think about that for a moment, mulling over my words.

"Cold, disconnected."

That seems to upset her, and I don't like that, so I grapple to come up with some of the good.

"I used to get really bad growing pains as a kid, and my mom would sit up with me all night. She'd rub my legs until I fell asleep almost every night for years. My dad taught me how to fight; he told me to always stand up for myself and those I care about. To never allow anyone to take what I don't readily give. He taught me how to shoot, how to work with knives, basic grappling, and MMA for hand-to-hand combat."

Skyla watches me with rapt attention, like she's absorbing every ounce of information I'm willing to give her.

"Were you all happy?"

I pause on this for a bit before I nod.

"I think so."

I appreciate that she doesn't question me more on that. Unfortunately, she was saving her breath for a heavier question.

"How did they die?"

My eyes come to her, those bright green orbs looking up at me, entrancing me, pulling the secrets out of the deep recesses of my mind against my will. Whatever she wants to know, I'll tell her. Anything she wants, it's hers. I'd cut out my own fucking heart and lay it at her feet, if that's what she asked of me.

"They were eliminators like me," I say, before rolling my lips together, stretching this out as long as I can. "They worked as a team. It's not uncommon, most prefer it, actually. One day, they were given orders, to take down a manufacturing plant with all the workers inside, and they didn't get out in time…boom. Gone."

My siren's eyes are widened with horror as she looks at me, as if she was waiting for me to say more. There isn't more to say, though. We are all born, and we all die; we never know what job will be our last or if we'll choke on a fucking bagel on a Tuesday morning. It's fucked, but there is no changing it.

"Vincent," she says, her voice rasping as she shakes her head. "I'm so sorry. You were what? Fifteen?"

"Fourteen," I correct.

She shakes her head like her heart is broken. I'm surprised it upsets her so much. She lost her mother when she was three. At least I have memories of my parents; she hardly has anything of hers, and Henry Parris is about the furthest thing from a father. He doesn't even count. Then again, I guess she had Stephanie.

"Who did you stay with after that? You didn't live on your own, right?"

He shakes his head.

"I moved in with my bond brother."

"You had a bond brother? I mean, it makes sense. I had wondered if there was a reason you didn't have one, but…where is he?"

"Dead," I say curtly.

Fuck. I haven't spoke about him in over two years. I still think about him nearly every day. He was my brother in every sense of the word, in every way that counted. It's fucked up, but his death haunts me more than my parents ever will. It's also the reason I will never trust or forgive Asher Putnam.

Skyla opens her mouth, closing it before opening and closing it again. My face must be easily readable. That is a subject I don't want to go into. Not right now, not ever.

"What was his name?" she asks softly.

My heart tugs at the timid tone beneath her words, and I force myself to soften, just a little, as I answer her this.

"Nathaniel Ingersoll."

She nods, before tilting her head to the side.

"Was his father in the room that night? I don't think I've heard the name before."

I shake my head. "His dad had a heart attack when we were seventeen. His mom died giving birth to him. Nate was the only true heir. With him gone, the Ingersol bloodline nearly went extinct. A mysterious cousin appeared practically from thin air and claimed the seat at the table. There was a lot of controversy over it. Many, including your father, questioning the validity of his heritage."

Her lips roll together. "I'm sure Christopher didn't love that."

"He wasn't the head of the Brethren back then; it was his dad, Luther Putnam."

"Asher's grandfather?"

I nod.

"God, how do you keep it all straight? All the families and legacies and stories."

"It was all we learned from birth. Like a religion poured down our throat from infancy, injected into our veins through adolescence, and beat into our brains as adults. We live and breathe our history."

She's quiet for a moment, before she lifts her hand to cup my face like she did earlier today.

"I'm sorry."

Two simple words, two words that really mean nothing. They don't take anything away. They don't make anything better. They don't heal all, and yet, coming from her, those two words mean fucking everything.

I squeeze her hips in thanks, and she pulls me down to her. I go easily, drawn to her like a sailor pulled into the sea. This is why she's my siren. She could lure me right to my death, and I would go, happily, willingly, spending eternity submerged in water, forever embalmed by her side.

My hands move down her legs as our mouths melt against one another. I take my time, adoring every inch of her before I grip the back of her knees and lift her into the air. She comes easily, wrapping her legs around my back as I pepper her neck with kisses and move into the living room, laying her down on the couch in front of the fire.

Her skin glows in the orange-tinted light, those pouty lips and needy eyes begging for me. Who am I to ever deny her a thing? Piece by piece, I shed every article of clothing between the two of us until there is nothing left but me and her.

I do my best to push away the dark thoughts flittering through my mind. Too much of the past has been dug up tonight– too many feelings, too much hurt. I struggle to push it away, focusing on my siren as my hands roughly knead her breasts, my teeth leaving a scattering of bite marks along her naked body.

"Vincent!" she gasps, when I bite her inner thigh so hard a tiny bit of blood emerges.

My eyes come to hers as she looks at the mark. The blood pricks to the top, dotting the teeth marks in a way that should be considered art. I stare at it in awe, her blood more beautiful than I ever thought it could be. I feel a darker side of me set in, one that I rarely give into, especially not with my siren. She's too perfect for my desires, too pure for my unsatiated appetite.

When I tear my eyes away, I see her watching me curiously.

"You like to see me bleed?"

I run my tongue along my lower lip, a small taste of that metallic flavor blooming across my tongue.

"Only when I'm the one to cause it."

"Show me," she says, catching me by surprise.

I look at her in question, and she nods.

"Show me. I can see it in your eyes. You want something, I'm not sure what, but if I can give it to you…I-I want to."

I shake my head roughly, closing my eyes as I break eye contact. She doesn't know what she's saying.

"Show me, Vincent. I want to satisfy your every desire, your every curiosity."

"You do," I say, my head snapping up to face her.

"I don't," she responds, too observant for her own good. "Not yet."

I feel my breathing become labored, my chest rising and falling as I grapple with the end of my control. It slips through my fingers, and in the next moment, my face is buried against her thigh. My tongue laps at the bite mark, a sick part of me craving the taste of her. I reach for my discarded jeans, flick out my blade, and glance up at her for permission.

Fear dilates her eyes as she nods and fuck me, it only makes me want it more. I press the tip of the blade to her other side, watching in awe as blood follows in a perfect line. Her body tenses, and I hear her muffled, pained groan.

A release like I've never felt before washes through me, something more satisfying than any kill. It's something pure, totally surrendered for my taking. My fingers smear against the blood before I line my cock up to her, shoving myself inside.

To my surprise, she's absolutely drenched, my cock easily sliding in and out of her as I lift her bleeding thigh. Looking down at it, my cock throbs as I fuck her deeper, pressing the blade against the skin just above it, giving her perfect thigh a matching cut.

"Ow," she grumbles softly.

My eyes swing to hers.

"Does that hurt, Siren?"

"It's fine. I love what it's doing to you," she moans as she reaches down, rubbing her clit with her hand.

"Yeah?" I grit through clenched teeth. "Like what it's doing to me? Like that it's turning me into a fucking savage?" I practically snarl, as my thrusts become choppy and erratic.

My hand is wet, and I look down to see it soaking with blood. Fuck, I shouldn't have cut her that deep. Holding it up, I stare at my crimson covered palm, a wave of ecstasy rolling through me as she reaches for my wrist.

I let her take it, watching in fascination as she guides it up and over to her chest, pushing it firmly just over her heart. I rest my weight between the couch and her chest as I abandon the knife, holding onto her like I'll float away and suffocate in my demons if I don't.

"Vincent," she whimpers. "Oh my god! Vincent, Vincent, Vincent!" she screams as I slam into her g-spot, her pulsating pussy squeezing the cum out of me as I fall over the edge.

We moan and grind against each other, practically shaking the walls of this cabin before we quiet, my thrusts stilling all together.

Slowly, I pull my hand away from her chest, watching in awe, as a perfect red handprint covers part of her breast just over her heart. My eyes come up to find hers half-lidded and satiated. She gives me a small smile, and I can't find myself to return it. Mainly because I'm rendered motionless, speechless. I'm in awe.

She just gave me a gift. One I didn't know I needed, didn't know I craved from her. And for her to have given it to me so willingly, so happily, so trusting….in this moment, more than any of the others all combined, I know with every fiber in my being that this woman was made for me. I will be by her side in this life, the next, and until the end of time. Where she goes, I go. Where she stays, I stay. Where she falls, I will be there with open arms, waiting, every goddamn time.