20. Hayden

20

HAYDEN

Dear Diary,

I dread the weekends.

It's another lonely Friday night.

No one is around. No one is around to talk to. No one is around to share a laugh with or the simplicity of their presence. My close friends don't know what I go home to. They don't know about the nights I endure. They don't know that I don't know how to think straight sometimes. No one knows that some days, I wake up and struggle to go on.

Sometimes, I hate me too.

No one knows…

It's unfinished. The entry is unfinished because she always signs her name at the bottom. It's a bit all over the place. And there are wrinkled textured dots amongst the paper, most likely from tears. I close it.

Seconds later, I walk into the room where Millie is staying with a grievous plan I promised to do. She's been staying in the same room my uncle had his Valkyrie in before he was executed from this dark Earth at the inferno.

She's asleep, and even through the freezing Cathedral, she manages to warm up any room she's in. She emanates peace and vulnerability and tastes like what I suppose heaven is. A realm I'm eternally banned from entering…she's the closest fraction of heaven I'll ever get to experience, and my father wants me to dispose of it.

I lay down beside her, careful not to wake her, as my hips dip into the mattress and the scent of pure strawberries waft into my senses. I grab a lock of her hair, and my nose trails the soft, black, wavy strands. I could get lost in her forever. She is a mysterious maze I would gladly never find the end to, and I would happily live like that.

My cock is immediately erect, and my God, it takes everything in me not to tear off her clothes and have her suffocate my dick with her mouth, her cunt…or her ass. I'll take them all if she lets me.

"You're here," she breathes out, and I pause my movements. She's awakened, and my plan to sink my teeth into her and drain her blood until her heart stops is already having hiccups in the process.

I don't want to do this…but I must.

It's either me or another immortal that finds her. Even my brother might get a shot if I don't follow through with this.

"I'm here," I reassure her, masking the dread that wants to paint its way into the conversation.

"What time is it?" she questions me as she stays still, not bothering to open her eyes yet.

"Three in the morning," I tell her truthfully. She pauses and does something that has me questioning what's left of my sanity. She dips her hand over the blankets and finds mine, snaking her fingers through them and intertwining us together.

"Maybe I'm crazy, but I'm going to thank you for saving me at the festival." There is a short pause as my eyelashes rapidly flutter with amusement, and a vivid smirk crosses my face, and she knows it. "You're still an asshole for kidnapping me, though," she spits out and places both our hands over her hip, sliding them until they meet the soft mattress that she's sleeping on.

"You still said thank you somewhere in that statement. You just made a confession that you lust for me as I do for you…I'll take it," I tell her wickedly as I pull myself in closer to her body. I need it on mine. Once her back hits my chest, images of my father sitting on his throne—the throne I will one day own, flashback with malice.

I resent my father's order. I don't want to kill her anymore.

How can I after finding out what she tastes like? After she's placed some sort of trust in me?

Her blood is rare, and on top of it all, it tastes too damn good to let it die with her. When she touches or looks at me, it puts me into a fucking bubble, and I'm her prisoner . Granted, she looks at me like she wants to hate me, but the way her heart flutters irregularly like it's fighting its own battle to regain a constant normal rhythm again that flows to destroy the feelings that simmer in her veins when I speak to her, speaks mountainous volumes.

I know she won't say it or admit it to me, but she thrives on being forced and choked. She loves it and craves it. I've read most of her diary, and she wants to experience it. She wants me to lose control just to feel her…and I lost that control months ago in Texas when I first laid my eyes on her.

In return, she makes me feel like maybe I do have more to give than to take. I'm willing to fight wars to keep her tethered to me and only me for the rest of my pathetic existence. My selfish need to acquire my powers is starting to dwindle and be replaced by another selfish need—or rather, my obsession with her existence.

I pull down her black-laced nightgown until it reveals her naked skin, and she doesn't fight it.

The scars on her breast that King Davenport's son gave her stare back at me mockingly. A loathing reminder that I failed to protect her entirely; someone else scarring her makes me livid, and I see black.

"You say you're going to kill me, but here I am, breathing in a room that my entire house fits, wearing clothes I know I'll never be able to afford, in a Cathedral that looks like a castle high up in the mountains…in bed with you." Her voice stabs my ears with determination. "I crave you, Hayden when I know it might be fucked up to feel this way. You have me in a dark fog, and I'm unsure I want to escape it. I know nothing about you…and yet you know everything about me. How is that fair?"

Her skin is warmer than usual. Her heart rate is faster than normal, and I sense something isn't right about her health.

"Are you feeling okay? You're hot." My hand slicks across her warm temple. Is she sick?

"I'm fine!" she lies. "Don't change the subject. I want answers, Hayden. Plea—" She refrains from using that word, and I twitch when she does.

She turns around and lets my hand go. An aura of emptiness flares into me cruelly at her absence. She turns to face me with beaming brown eyes, glistening even underneath the darkness; her eyes have a chokehold on me.

Mulling over her gentle yet destructive words, I'm hesitant to respond.

Because I came into this room with the intent to put an end to her life and an end to this brewing war, but the way she wreaks havoc on me, already dripping honey in between her thighs, is a reminder I want her alive more than anything in this world. I don't want to betray her trust. Fuck. I don't want to see the look on her face when she finds out the truth.

"You fail to realize that all I've done for the past six months is risk my right to the throne, my eternal damnation, standing up for everything I believed in to keep you and your family alive. My ways of doing so may be depraved and frowned upon in your fragile human world, but it has to be done. Keeping you away from the Davenports, your family, and the life you once knew is necessary."

She narrows her eyes at me, and a tear falls down her cheek. I want to wipe it away, but I hold my ground. I need to get this out.

"Why did you try to commit suicide at sixteen years old?"

She stiffens.

"What? How do you know about that?!"

"Answer the question. You know what I'm talking about. Why did you try and take your own life?" I scowl at her. I care about her. Reading her journal has me invested and captivated.

She touches her arm—the one where there's a scar—just hidden behind the sleeve of her black nightgown.

I read the unfinished entry in her journal before entering her room. The scar on her arm…it all adds up. I always assume the worst. I hope she'll tell me I'm wrong, but she doesn't deny it.

"Don't make me talk about it. I hate going back there." Millie's shaking, her eyes fade to hopelessness, but I need to know what happened.

Who do I need to torture?

"Back where?"

"That dark headspace where I hate myself." she claws at her hair.

My brows knit together, and I ball my fists. "Why on Earth would you hate yourself?"

"Because!" she snaps, cutting me off.

The collected tears on her dark lashes fall down her reddened cheeks.

"If the two people who are supposed to love you unconditionally didn't want you, why would I want myself? If they didn't want to live for me, why would I want to live for myself?" She's shaking and grips the scar on her arm tighter until her knuckles turn white. "If they hated me, I would hate me too." She rubs it up and down.

She's having a panic attack. A lump forms in my throat as I jolt forward and scoop her into my arms as she bellows in my chest. She punches and fights me, but I just hold onto her tighter.

"Let me go!" she sniffles, trying to push me off, but I just encase her more. I need her to feel how much she's wanted.

"No." I kiss the top of her head.

"Hayden!" Another push.

"No." Another kiss.

Finally, she stops fighting me and grips my suit tighter. I let her cry and whimper while I soothe her back.

"They don't hate you, Millie." I kiss the top of her head. "They made mistakes they will never be able to take back. But don't let the trauma they inflicted on you drown you. You're still here, and you should be proud of yourself for that."

She holds onto me tighter and whimpers softly.

I want you, Millie. If they don't want you. I want you.

I'm tempted to say it, but the fact that she's almost asleep in my arms makes me hesitate.

I don't want to disturb her peace or say something that I'm still trying to figure out myself. I have an attachment toward her, and I don't know how far it goes, but I feel like I must take care of her.

I want to take care of her .

I don't want to become the next most powerful king there's been since King Killian, from centuries ago. He was the last vampire to have powers before he died at the Inferno.

I don't know when she contracted the fever, but maybe she got it from the concert. I gently lay her back on the pillow, and she lets me. She nestles into it, and I stand.

"Wait. Don't go," she pleads.

"I'm coming right back," I assure her with a gentle tone.

What the hell is going on with me ?

I flash out the door to grab Tylenol from our storage for human necessities. After grabbing the pill bottle, I ask one of our chefs to cook chicken soup for her. Then, I head back into Millie's room. It all took me about three minutes.

I hand the pills to her. She pushes herself up against the bed with her hands, eyeing the pills suspiciously.

"What is that?" she asks as she takes them. I give her a cup of water.

"Tylenol. For your fever."

I watch her swallow the pills and climb back into bed with her. Kicking off my shoes, I take the glass of water away from her and place it on my nightstand.

I grab her body, forcing her to turn on her side so that she faces the red stained glass and her back is to my chest. She's shivering, clawing at the blankets to warm her up more. She's already at a 102 body temperature. I force the blankets off her, and she whines. She tries to grab them again, but I snatch her arm and scold her.

"Your temperature will get higher if you do that. We need to get your temperature down, not up."

"But I'm cold," she stammers with chattering teeth.

"That's your fever talking, Millie. Let me help." I take off my shirt, knowing full well my body is cold, and embrace her. She hisses and fights my hands off her at first, but I keep my embrace tight and like steel.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you being nice to me? Don't you want to kill me?" she asks me as she continues to shudder against my body.

I pause, contemplating her question as I grip her hips to keep her still. I don't know how to answer that.

She's warm. But it's not the fever. Millie is warm all the time.

"When I was still a human… before I turned , I got sick sometimes. My mother and father were always too busy running the kingdom and with other matters that didn't concern a child. It was my uncle that took care of me."

Just then, there's a knock on the door, and the Chef comes in with Millie's food and drink. I stand, take the tray from him, thank him, and he closes the door as he walks out. I turn to Millie, and she sits up with rosy cheeks and pale skin. She's still shivering, but not so much as before.

"He would always make me chicken soup. This is his recipe." I place it on a wooden bed tray so she can eat while sitting comfortably still tucked into the bedsheets. She hovers over the plate, smells the warm fumes, and I can feel her mouth watering.

An overwhelming urge to touch her… gently consumes me. The urge is frightening and unfamiliar. I grit my teeth and resent that temptation. I like her. I like her a lot.

I grab my shoes and shirt before I'm at the door. I watch her take a few bites while she sits on the bed, and for some reason, I can feel my uncle's ghost haunting me in this room. The cathedral holds history. I grip the door, and my mouth opens before I can stop it.

"Imagine being hurt so much that you lose faith in humanity. Imagine being betrayed so many fucking times that you can't feel anything anymore but numbness? Imagine being hurt so many goddamn times you lose trust in everything and everyone? To the point where you can't even trust yourself?"

She stops eating, and she freezes. She holds the spoon in her hands and doesn't move, but we stand there watching each other. We lock eyes. Compassion floods through her slow movements. I'm opening up to her. Giving her a small window into the life I've lived. I've never been able to open up about my life before with anyone, but with Millie…I guess I can't stop talking about shit I'm ashamed of.

Three Hundred Years Ago

I throw rocks at the lake behind the Cathedral. I know I'm not alone, and I don't want anyone to know that I'm hurting. I've been taught not to cry. It's weak to cry, father and mother say.

"My parents treat me like I'm different." I stare at my eighteen-year-old reflection.

"You are different, though in all the best ways, Hayden." My uncle comforts me once again since my parents are lost in their daily lives that don't involve my brother and me. They're always absent when I need them but always present when it's time for me to execute duties I dread.

"I'm different because I'm a monster."

"What'd you do?"

I throw a rock at where my face is, and the water breaks into waves. "I beat someone up."

"Why?"

"Because they were bullying me. He started a fight with me…so I ended it."

My uncle Amos sits next to me. He brings his knees upwards and places his crossed forearms against them as he watches me.

"And what did this boy tell you? What did he say that triggered you to unremorseful madness that you beat him almost to death?"

I shut my eyes tight as I recollect the boy's bloodied, bruised face. I liked seeing him bleed red. It gave the demons inside me joy.

"Everyone notices how my parents have never been there since I was a child. It's a small town. Everyone notices how quiet I am and self reserved. Everyone in school thinks I don't belong in this world. If only they knew the truth about how I came into this world."

"Hayden," he scolds. "What did he say?"

"He said that I'm pathetic because I search for a sense of family through my teachers because I go above and beyond with my studies. That I'm undeserving of loyal friendship and compassion and that I'm so worthless that my own parents and brother feel the same way, too. That nobody will see me like a man, but only a monster who says please too much when I ask for things. I'm just being polite, which got me into a fight."

"Ignore them, Hayden. But don't ever stop standing up for yourself. Defend yourself and your light. Don't let a cruel world beat you up until all you feel is anger. Be stronger than that."

I snap out of my thoughts and close the door before she can respond. I don't know if Millie was going to or not, but I'd prefer if she didn't have an answer.