35. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Hydessa

I wake screaming, torn from my sleep as it feels like fire rips through me. The heat searing and the smell of burnt flesh has me choking, but it's nothing compared to the pain. It overwhelms my senses so quickly that the darkness of unconsciousness saves me from it within moments, the pain too much for my body to cope with. But with it comes a memory I tried to forget…

***

17 Years Ago

My dad is cooking when someone comes to the house. It's late, the sun has already set. Seanna is staying with a friend; she has always been the popular one. She tries to take me along with her, but tonight, I just wanted to stay home.

The adults are talking in the living room and I know not to interrupt. Walking quietly into the kitchen I can see something cooking on the stove, I know it's been forgotten about because the water is overflowing a little, the sound of it sizzling as it drips is soft enough that they won't hear it from where they are.

Dragging a chair over I hop up onto it, reaching over to turn it off like dad showed me, but it's still dripping and making that sizzling sound. Reaching out to move it away from that spot, my fingertips brush against the metal and I gasp as pain flashes through me from where I touched the pot. Tears fill my eyes, but I don't want to get in trouble so I swallow the cry that instantly builds in my throat. A whimper still escapes as I look down at where two of my fingertips are now pink and stinging sharply.

"If you suck on them it will help." A voice comes from behind me and I gasp, turning too fast and almost toppling from the chair. Hands steady me, but they aren't adult hands, they are the hands of a child.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he says and I find myself looking down into big green eyes. His dark hair has been cut so close to his head there is barely any of it, making his eyes stand out.

I quickly get down from the chair and move away. "Who are you?" I ask, sticking my burning fingers inside my mouth.

His lips twist to the side, as though he is chewing on the inside of his cheek. "No one," he says after a moment. He looks really sad.

I tilt my head, confused, letting my hands drop to my sides again. "Your name is ‘no one'?" I ask with a giggle, and he smiles, even though the sad look doesn't leave completely.

"No, it's Lincoln," he says, shaking his head. Can't say I blame him for wanting to be called something else.

I try to stop laughing but I can't. "That sounds like an old man's name," I point out and he rolls his eyes at me. "I understand why you would want to be called ‘no one' instead."

That look completely returns to his face and it makes me confused so I stop laughing. I didn't mean to upset him.

"I don't want to be called ‘no one'. It's just what my parents would say to me all the time. That I'm nothing and no one," he explains, making me instantly want to cry.

He pulls out one of the chairs at the table and sits down, so I hop down and drag the chair back over next to him to sit as well. Folding his arms onto the flat surface, he lets his head fall against them and for a moment I think he might be crying. I've never seen a boy cry before.

"They're wrong," I say, laying a hand on his shoulder like papa does to me when I cry. "And those names don't suit you at all anyway." I can see him peeking at me out of the corner of his eye. The voices in the living room get louder for a moment but then go back to being quiet again while I think of a better name for him. "I think Link would suit you better."

I can see a small smile come back to him as he thinks about it, nodding a little as he lifts his head again. "What's your name?" he asks softly and I giggle again. I'm so used to everyone already knowing my name, it seems silly that he doesn't.

"Hydessa," I respond and his face twists a little into a frown.

"I don't think that name suits you either," he says, making me frown too.

"It's the only name I have. Well really it's Hydessa Darling, " I explain. I've never known any other name.

He laughs finally and I pout. I don't understand why he's laughing at my name, but then again, I did laugh at his name too.

"Maybe you should get called ‘little darling'," he says between giggles and I cringe, my face twisting in disgust.

"Ewww, no, that's what my dads call my mom," I tell him, there is no way I'm allowing anyone to call me that.

His laughter dies down and he takes a moment to think about it. "Okay then, I'll just call you Dessa," he finally says with a smile.

"I like that name," I say, smiling back at him. "But only you can call me that."

Link nods, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Then only you can call me Link," he says. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Did you say 'dads'? Are both of those men your dads?"

I giggle and nod. "Yes, silly. Well, I call one Dad and the other Papa."

He frowns, trying to make sense of it. "How do you have two dads?"

"Well, they both love my mommy, and they are brothers, so they decided to love her together," I explain.

Link's frown deepens, as though he's trying to wrap his head around the concept. Then, his expression turns sad. "I wish I had a brother. I don't have any family."

This time, it's my turn to frown. "I thought you said it's your parents who call you those mean names."

He huffs and I'm not sure if he is cranky or upset at the reminder now. "They aren't my real parents. They made that clear too. I don't have anyone."

I reach out and take his hand in mine, giving him a smile. "You have me now."

***

With a pained groan, consciousness starts to slowly return. The burning sensation has dulled down, but fingers are moving over the skin of my arm. As my eyes part, I see the neon glow of Abel's mask, but his attention is on my arm as he wraps something around it. I whimper and he glances at me, reaching a hand out to brush hair away from my face.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asks, his voice low and almost soothing despite the situation and the modulator.

I groan, shifting slightly. "That's none of your business."

As I finally look at what he is doing, I notice he's wrapping my arm in something clear, like the kind of wrapping used for a fresh tattoo. But it's certainly not a tattoo under the covering.

"You fucking branded me?" I snap, the realization hitting me like a cold shock as I stare at the two red and raw mask shapes burnt into my skin.

Abel doesn't respond, simply finishes wrapping it before standing and moving to lean against the wall, his attention never leaving me. I wish I could see his expression, but even then I doubt I would see regret.

"Why?" I demand, my voice filled with anger and confusion. "Why did you do this?"

He doesn't flinch, his mask glowing softly in the dim light of the room. He watches me with a calm demeanor, seemingly unaffected by my anger.

"You're ours, and now everyone else will know it too," he finally responds.

I growl, frustrated as I let my head fall back. But that means I can't see him, and I obviously can't trust what he will do if left unattended, which makes me wonder where Cain is. I push through the pain and sit up, breathing out a sigh when I lean back against my headboard.

"Seeing our mark on your skin just makes me want to fuck you again," Abel says suddenly, his voice low.

I give him a droll look, my patience wearing thin. "My pussy can't take much more of your obsession with it."

He tilts his head slightly, as if considering how to respond. "Your pussy isn't the part of you that I'm obsessed with," he says finally, his tone serious.

I roll my eyes, frustrated. "Would you have done this to any woman who came to investigate these murders?"

"No," he answers without hesitation. "But no one else was going to come looking."

"Anyone could have seen that blog and looked into it," I argue.

"Could they?" Abel counters cryptically, a subtle change in his tone catching my attention.

"You're speaking in riddles," I snap, annoyance sharpening my tone.

"The person who needed to see the blog saw it first," he says with a shrug, looking away for a moment.

"Why me?" I press, frustration building. His gaze returns to me, his head tilting again.

"You'll know why soon enough."

My frustration finally snaps. "If you knew who was murdering tourists, why haven't you taken them out?" I demand, my voice tinged with anger. "People have died since you started trying to get my attention."

Abel remains silent for a moment, his mask betraying nothing. When he finally speaks, his voice is measured and deliberate. "It's not that simple," he begins. "What's that saying? The reason you fall for the villain over the hero of a story is because the hero will choose the world over their lover but the villain will burn it down for insulting his queen… We aren't good men, don't mistake us for good men. We would burn it all down for you."

I feel like my heart stops beating in my chest, but he doesn't even give me a chance to respond before he quietly walks out of the room, leaving me to my own thoughts and a restless night ahead.