6. kindred conundrum

6

kindred conundrum

Lavender Cyn

The sound of dripping water resounds in the distance, as I slowly blink my eyes open, feeling the heaviness in them as I sit up from where I lay.

I feel aching in my back, and my neck is also sore. Almost identical to the pain I felt on my wedding night when Rivian snapped my neck.

I feel a cold breeze skate across my skin, looking down to see I am in an oversized button up shirt, likely one of Rivian's, but other than that, just my underwear and this shirt creates a barrier from the cold air invading my skin's warmth.

I also notice blood stains all over my body still, meaning I couldn't have been out for more than a few hours.

"Where the fuck am I?" I look around, reaching out my hands to get to my knees, wanting to push myself up off this wall. The sound of chains rattle next to me and that's when I feel the restraints around my wrist, a metal cuff linked to each one of them.

I further analyze that I have similar cuffs on my ankles, all bolted to a cement wall.

"What the fuck?" I shout, hearing my own voice bounce off the walls in a reverberating echo. The dungeon. But there's no bodies or blood, no sign of fire.

Part of me tries to fully remember why I reacted the way I did, pulling Troy's heart from her chest and setting the castle ablaze, leaving my husband daggered.

My mother.

She's alive.

I don't remember much other than the rage that infiltrated me and took over every emotion that my body emitted. Nothing else mattered. I just wanted to destroy. It was like my heart shattered into a million little shards and spread through my body, pinching my skin and creating this overpowering sense of hatred pummeling through me. At first, it was because I wanted to defend Rivian's pain. But then, I wanted to become the reason for Rivian's pain.

The taste of blood and the smell of smoke proved enticing as I reveled in my rapture of war. Every single name I was called, all of the times I was gaslit, the people who left me for worse, the bruises, the aches, and scars . . . everything was brought to justice as I walked away from the castle that burned and feasted on innocent bodies just as mine was abused.

It felt good.

I fall back on my ass and slam my head back into the wall, hating not knowing what's going on right now.

"Ugh!" I sigh frustratingly, attempting to pull the chains free. I know I have strength now as a vampire, but my guess is that these chains are meant to subdue that strength. Meaning . . . I'm trapped.

"It's about time you wake." I hear an unfamiliar voice sound around me. I twist my head from left to right trying to see where it's coming from but I have no luck finding the source.

I continue to try to wrestle out of the hold on me, knowing that I will fail without a doubt. At least the pain doesn't last long, my back and neck are starting to feel normal again. Most likely due to whatever healing powers vampires seem to possess.

In the last few days since officially turning, I've learned a few things about myself.

My emotions are extremely charged. So, my anger is infuriating and my pain is excruciating.

I've learned that I am far stronger than what I could have imagined. Hell, I almost overpowered my husband earlier.

I am hungry all the time. The sinful thirst that ravages me is debilitating. Except it's also exhilarating, especially when quenched. I can still taste the blood I spilled earlier on the tip of my tongue. Part of me wonders why I feel no remorse knowing I just killed over a dozen innocent lives. Part of me feels liberated by it.

And last, I crave Rivian.

I don't know why. But my need to be filled by him, touched by him, crushed by him is so fucking visceral, it hurts more than my hunger for flesh and blood.

"It's assaulting, isn't it?" The voice again, this time sounding a little bit more familiar than before. I twist my body, chains swirling around me as I strain my neck into the darkness to find out where it's coming from. "The cravings and the aches for feeling. It's overpowering and soon, it will devour you."

"Don't be such a pussy," I say with an ounce of nonchalance in my tone. "Show yourself." I lean back into the wall, feigning boredom as I wait for the mystery behind the deep voice to step out in front of me.

A man steps out from the shadows, a black diamond mask covering part of his face. His outfit is vastly different from the first time I saw him, dressed in a black V-neck, black jeans with rips in the knees, and a black leather jacket.

Travois.

I blink my eyes a few times, still trying to adjust to the dark as I watch him take a few steps forward. He carefully and slowly lifts a hand—a gloved hand—to remove the mask.

"Hello, sister." A grin forms across his face and something foreboding stirs deep in my gut.

His face is nearly shrouded by the dark shadows that loom, but I try to look closely.

"It's finally time we properly meet." His voice is deep, embedded with an ominous tone.

He leans down on his haunches and that's when the little sliver of light produced by a small window shines generously across his face, his features now available for me to assess.

He's handsome, of course. The features he possesses are nearly identical to his twin, Troian. But on second glance, I can see something else. Or rather, someone else . . . our mother .

His right eye is a pure blue, deep and bright swirling with remnants of light and freedom. His left eye is a mystical sight; half of it blue resembles the ocean and the other half gray, mirroring my own. Except this eye seems to be clouded with sorrow and pain.

His lips are full like Troy's. His nose is slender like my mom's. His hair is black as midnight, just like my natural hair color would be if I didn't keep it hidden under bright strands of white.

Thoughts go back to the night I first met Rivian at the bookstore when he'd made a comment about my hair and something swirls in my veins. But the coveted memory doesn't hold long before I hear Travois' voice again.

"So little, yet so mighty," he states, looking straight at me.

"What do you want?" I ask calmly.

"I just wanted to finally meet my little sister. See what all the fuss was about." He stands up and takes a few steps back, still keeping his eyes on me and something cynical fills the room, like an air weighted with anger and toxic fumes. "I can see the infatuation, see the reason why he needed to have you around. After all, I did say you were perfect. I just didn't know you'd go this far." Travois' words layer around me in annoyance. "I'm impressed," he praises.

What the fuck is he talking about? I rear back my shoulders and try with all my might to push forward, hoping to break the chains, but they don't even budge. I huff and Travois lets out a slight chuckle.

“Are you here for any real reason or did you just want to gawk at the exhibit?” I let my tone spit like lava at him.

Before, I would have established interest in . . . I don’t know, getting to know him. Even when I didn't know he was my brother. Not that he was very nice when I first met him, but now, I just don’t care.

"I came to fill you in on a little secret, sis. A secret I know you’ll appreciate seeing as we’re cut from the same cloth.” He smirks before running his ungloved finger through a layer of dust against the floor and rubbing it between his fingers.

“You see, everyone has a darkness and a weakness. You might think that those two components are the same but they are not,” he starts. “Some revel in it, use it to their advantage to expose just how evil they can really be. That's the power they admire holding onto, being up front with needing to milk fear from those around them.

“Others will bury it deep beneath the cold and fragile exterior that they work so hard to keep hidden, as if it doesn't exist because fear of exposure chips at their reserve and threatens to engulf them. They don't know how to deal with their shadowed secrets and they don’t want anyone to know that their darkness exists." Travois runs the dust sanding his fingers over the black diamond embellishments of his mask, slowly admiring the raised bumps while soiling them with the dirt he’s picked up from the floor, grinning ominously as he continues to speak whatever unavailing words he deems educational.

"On one hand, if you’re the kind of person who likes to embrace the darkness, no one can use it against you but then you risk making yourself out to be the very villain that you yourself are afraid of. On the other hand, if you decide to be the kind of person to hide it, then no one can use it to haunt you, but then you just look weak." He drags his eyes up to meet mine, undoubtedly seeing the confliction I can't seem to deny.

"You and I, we're stuck in the middle." His conclusion is harrowing, unraveling even. Not because of his insinuation that we are one in the same, but because I can understand what he means when he says that I am stuck in the middle.

I roll my eyes at him despite the truth I find in his words because what the fuck does this elusive creature know about me? And what possesses him to compare the likes of us? And who the fuck does he think he is trying to disassemble my character by exposing who he thinks I am?

"What about weakness?" I ask, entertaining his little charade. "You said they aren't one in the same."

"Ahh, yes. Two players, same game.” He stands as he deepens his explanation. “You see, weakness is the very thing that you yearn for. The one thing you crave more than anything in life. It could be something tangible or simply a whisper of hope. Either way, it's likely the one thing that can be used against you. In other words . . . your demise." His eyes look sinister as he stands in the dark, the glow of them so fierce it causes me to need to look anywhere other than where he stares at me. “Your darkness is wrath and your weakness is love, isn't it?”

I snap my head to face him, his knowledge of the very things that drive me falling out his mouth in some kind of dissemination surprises me. While he was spot on with a lot of his analysis, I didn’t expect him to call me out that way.

“Darkness is what drives you and weakness is what can cause your downfall.” I don’t mean for the words to come out. I only intended to think them, but as it is he likely would have pulled them from head anyway.

He smiles at me, knowing that I am catching on to the fatuous meaning of his words. But no matter how ridiculous . . . he’s not wrong.

He stuffs a hand in his pocket, the gloved one now holding onto his mask, before he continues.

"You never wanted to hide whatever darkness engineered you because you know that hiding only means you're ashamed. And you are not ashamed, are you, little sister? You enjoy knowing you are contrived by the evil that haunts you. Yet you've made yourself believe that you've dissimulated the thoughts that made you less than worthy, because you didn't want anyone to know what drives your emotions, what manufactured such a broken girl who only desired to feel love . But that's where your weakness comes into play, right? And though you're no stupid girl, well aware that love is going to be your downfall because your darkness prevented you from ever feeling love, you still made up this rather riveting idea that weakness is strength, but that's what's gotten you into this mess, isn't it Lucy?" Asshole . How dare he choose the one time I'm confined and unable to bash his fucking head in, to sit here and analyze me, berate me and pick me a part.

"You don't fucking know me," I spit at him, knowing damn well that just very well laid me out to dry.

But to Hell with fear. I no longer care about falling victim to those who show their true colors and set out to make my life miserable. I no longer care to walk on glass around those who claim to have more power than me. I couldn't figure out whether to hide or be free around Rivian and it led me to mental destruction. I refuse to let anyone, dead or living, have that much power over me ever again.

Though, it does slightly entice me that Travois just did the work that multiple paid professionals couldn't even unravel in the matter of minutes, and I haven't said more than a few sentences to him. I like him for it. It makes him interesting.

"In fact, I do know you, sister," he continues. "You flourish in that weight you carry. The burden that was forced onto you, the one that says you're not enough. You've been molded by your past and it serves as a reminder that no one will ever make you feel so small. It works for you to an extent, because you know it's made you stronger and it's given you a sense of power. But if you let it show too much, then you risk becoming the villain. That's where you and I are the same. You see, somewhere along the way everything got lost, didn't it? At one point, you were plagued with thoughts of one or the other, light and dark, now confused in your conviction because of someone else's doing.” He pauses as he looks me up and down, like he’s trying to read me. “Because the one thing you valued the most, the thing that made you strong in your heart, was twisted by someone who told you that it in fact was the only weakness you carry and in turn, forced you to show your hand. Forcing you to play your darkness and suppress the only thing you ever desired the most."

I scoff. Is he supposed to impress me with his ability to dismantle an entire theory behind why someone is the way they are? Because right now, it's only making anger boil in my veins the more he goes on, a hunger caressing my bones. Yet, he decides to continue.

"Rivian made you believe that your desire for love was trivial, didn't he? He made you believe that your strength was weak and he wanted you to fully showcase whatever darkness you harbored because he wanted you, his anima vinculum , to live in the same desperations he subjected himself to. Yet to his defense, I think he thought he was doing you a favor," he chuckles lightly. "I think my poor brother wanted to help you in that sense because he's the kind of person who hides his darkness and pretends as if it doesn't exist because he is ashamed. So, he urged you to feel the same and he thought he could use that to his advantage. Because he's terrified of his darkness, the very thing that drives you in strength."

He’s insinuating that Rivian's darkness is my strength and that my darkness is his strength. That's a lot to wrap my head around, especially when all I can think about is ripping into someone's neck, but I guess it could make sense. But why come down here and divulge all of his knowledge to me?

He bends back down and lifts one of the chains latched to my ankle and drops it, taunting me. It infuriates me. Because on top of spewing a shit ton of motivational conspiracy tales of darkness and weakness, I can't stand that he's right. I can't stand that he's in front of me, using his vapid but smart brain to make me hate him. And right now, my hunger is raging.

"I hope you know you sound dumb. You probably don't even know half of what you just said," I quip, wanting to get under his skin as much as he’s gotten under mine.

"I see you've captured some of Troy's traits as well." He smirks at me.

"What's your weakness then, tough guy?" I readjust the chains to lessen the pain starting to dig into my bones at my wrists.

"Oh no, I'm not giving up the goods that easily. But let's just say that we're far more alike than I care to admit. It's a shame we didn't get to grow up with each other." Travois gleams a smug smile at me, it reminds me a little of Rivian which stirs up all kinds of thoughts in my head.

Needing him.

Hating him.

Fighting every battle in my head against him.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

Travois tilts his head at me and I keep my eyes locked on him, curious as to what he's thinking or what he’s going to say.

"I never expected you to go full blown psycho. That's quite a mess you made back at the Gilded Hollow." His chuckle taunts me, creates unwanted chills to travel down my arms and grips me like evil itself. Whatever haunts Travois, it's not the same as my darkness. His darkness is scary. “You should learn to control yourself next time.”

"Haven’t you been locked up this whole time?" I wonder, just now realizing that he’d gotten out somehow.

He rubs his jaw with his ungloved hand. I want to ask him about it, but almost as if he's reading my mind, or maybe simply just responding to my question, he says, "We're allowed secrets, wouldn't you say?”

I roll my eyes. This man is infuriating. He just revealed all of my mental truths against my will, exposing me without my permission and practically unveiling my entire being but yet, he wants to hold onto his petty secrets while still digging for more of mine.

Silence falls between us for a few beats, allowing me to relax from all the shit he just piled on me, but it’s not long before he's moving on to his next inconceivable ramble.

"It's fun letting yourself go, isn't it?" he asks, running a finger over his jaw before turning his back to me.

"What are you on about now?" I shuffle my legs, trying to get myself into a more comfortable position against this cold wall.

"If it's secrets of mine you want, let me fill you in on another." He pauses a beat before inhaling a deep breath and continuing. "The first attacks of Outsiders in Valor Cove, that was me." He tilts his head, examining his words and I almost don’t believe him. "However, I didn't kill the other two and I sure as hell didn't kill the Nocturnes. But fuck, baby sister, doesn't it feel good to step outside of the rules? To evade the constraints and push back? And don't you dare tell me you didn't enjoy it. Again, you and I are one in the same and we're only able to hide our darknesses for so long. We crave those needs we've been drowning in." His eyes are like little rocks of lava burning holes in my head.

If I were human, his admission might scare me. But I don't even flinch at his confession; he killed two Outsiders. For fun? I just killed over twenty. Who knows why he's telling me this and I honestly could care less. But I would be lying if I said it didn't intrigue me just a little bit, his confidence to confide in me. But I also think about what this means for the Rogue that Rivian told me about.

I shift uncomfortably at his first statement. He's right. It did feel good. But I don't know if that's me or the vampirism talking. Whatever is stirring inside of me seems to be more dangerous than I imagined. I can't seem to care much to analyze it further than the feelings I have now.

"That's why you let them lock you up?" I wonder. Maybe if I can get more information out of him, I can leverage my release against whoever put me down here.

"No, I let them lock me up because I wanted to know what it would be like to actually feel empty. That, and someone might have compelled me. I can’t quite be too sure about that. But I'll leave you out of that mess. You seem to have too much on your plate already." He smirks and all I want to do is punch my hand through his chest. He's giving and taking. Just like Rivian did.

"Anyway, I just wanted to pay you a little visit. Let you know that I'm proud of you even if you did take things a little too far. Let me offer you some big brotherly advice . . . never let them catch you comin', sis." He inches closer and brushes a gloved finger over my temple. sweeping my hair out of my eyes. "However, despite my praise of you growing a backbone, I'm not too happy about what you did to our sister. Troian is innocent in this world, in all of it. And what kind of brother would I be to her if I didn't defend her honor?"

He drops back down to his haunches, and before I can make a move to swing one of the chains at him, he squeezes my cheeks with one hand to hold me still, pressing my head back toward the wall while making quick work to pull his mask over my face. I struggle against his pursuit but come up short as my eyes are now masked and my breathing becomes significantly harder.

"And what kind of brother would I be to you if I let you get away with such crude actions without consequence?"

And for the second time in one night, my neck is snapped.

"Sleep tight, sis." I hear him say before everything fades to black.