10. her heart to break

10

her heart to break

Rivian

"Come out! Show yourself right now! I know you're here; I can feel you." Her demand is insolent but the way she's pouting while scrunching her nose has me holding back laughter, and I almost have half the nerve to stay in the shadows and watch her throw her tantrum some more.

But time is being wasted and this needs to work tonight or I'm afraid my plans might fail. I decide to step out from the corner of her darkened living room, watching her as she turns around every which way in a panic, so I wait for her to spot me.

And when she does, she comes charging, rearing her hand back and then thrashing it into my chest.

"What the fuck was that? Who are you?" Her question is harsh as her demeanor is apoplectic, even more so when all I react with is a small smile.

She pulls her hand back and tries to swing again but this time, I stop her with the grip of my own hand, holding her wrist tightly in midair. She struggles to get it free but only grunts when she realizes she's not going to be made victorious in this battle.

"I implore you, Lucynda, calm down before you hurt yourself. If you try to hit me again, you will regret it." I growl at her, and I will make good on my threat, but she doesn't know that the way my heart beats for her right now might very well be my own undoing. She might be my undoing. But she has to be the resolution first.

"Are you calm?" I ask her, squeezing her wrist for good measure and watching her facial expression twist from anger to confusion to wanting to comply. I could compel her to stop overreacting but overstepping that barrier of trust with her is not the way I want her to obey. I want her to willingly make this decision on her own despite the meddling I had to do to get her here.

She nods and I feel her muscles relax a little.

I let go of her wrist and she yanks it back, nursing it and seeing the redness arise where my grip was.

"Now, I can tell you might have some questions for me. Let's start with one at a time, shall we." I take a much needed step back from her, needing to create space between us.

She may have no idea who I am, but she has been all that's been on my mind these past few weeks, consuming me with her alluring gray eyes, her pearl-colored hair, her porcelain-doll skin, along with every little quirk she has. Like right now, how she crosses her arms across her chest and a small crease layers the bridge of her nose where a few freckles claim home, one of her eyebrows elevates as she stares up at me from underneath her dark, long lashes.

"Who are you?" She spits out as calmly as her inflamed emotions will let her.

I realize I've been somewhat playing games with her mind these last few weeks but right now, I need to get her on board with me, I want her to feel desire in what I have to offer.

"My name is Rivian. Rivian Duquesne," I state, knowing that most people in this town who are privy to keeping their memories about them would shudder at the sound of my name. But not her. Not my little one.

"How did you get me here so fast?" She looks around as sudden confusion washes over her face, most likely from remembering that she ended up here in no less than that of a whisper of wind. "What did you do to me?" she adds, settling her glances right back on me.

"That's an explanation that you'll have to be okay with receiving at a later date. But you are here, and you are safe, are you not?" I want to answer all of her questions as truthfully as I can, but some things require a bit more of an explanation and I don't have that kind of time right now.

"Okay then…" She chews on her bottom lip, not fighting my lack of details but rather trying to figure out what to ask next. "What kind of party was that? Are you the one who sent me that invite?"

"That's two questions, but I'll answer them." I prepare myself for the truth I'm going to have to tell her, that tonight was really all about her. "That was a Vinculum Masquerade. In short, it was a celebration of a certain type of binding. We hold masquerades for a plethora of reasons but tonight was a special occasion. More specifically, it was an engagement party. And yes, I was the one who invited you."

My response makes her gasp, but more so out of mystification than anything else. The utterly fantastic thing about Lucynda is that I can't sense or feel a single drop of real fear eluding from her. She's not as terrified as she wants to be, but confusion still plagues her.

"An engagement party?" She takes a step backward. "Why would I have been invited to an engagement? I don't even know anyone here! And why the masks? And everyone knew my name and . . . and that man! That man was . . . eating that girl's neck." Lucynda maunders as she reaches up and touches her own neck with her fingers, and I see something inquisitive flip through her eyes. "She was bleeding, and everyone was just watching . And all the other people doing stuff in the other rooms, why were they all on display?" I take this moment to attempt to step closer to her, wanting to tell her not to be afraid but knowing that she's actually not.

She may seem upset, but that's only because her curiosity has gone unanswered and she's desperate to figure out what all this is, but she's not afraid. At least not yet.

I remove the mask from the inside of my suit jacket, the one she threw off and left behind as she ran away into the night. She watches my movements with intent, making sure I'm not a threat to her. I hand her the mask, and watch as she accepts it from my hands, our fingers touch for a feather of a moment before hers slip away to caress the silk of the ribbons on her mask.

She looks up at me, almost nervous to do so but I see the desperation playing a role in her eyes. The need for more, craving the feeling she felt back in the secret hall of poetically pretty pictures painted by those who crave the very same things.

"Why was I invited?" Her soft voice breaks the delicate silence that lingers between us as she continues to explore the mask she wore tonight with her fingers. God, how I craved watching her watch me tonight. "I don't know anybody from this town," she adds in a more pacified tone, but I can tell she's only calming herself in hopes I'll be more inclined to answer her.

"Lucynda," I whisper her name as I close the space between us in two strides and reach for her chin, lifting her face up to look at me, "That engagement party was for you."

"For me?" Her breath hitches as I hold her face in my hands, and I can feel the hunger stir in my veins. I have to let go of her and turn away before she notices, before the change scares her away.

Bloodlust is a nasty curse, and though she has the means to subdue it, the tether also plays a huge role as to why my hunger spikes around her. It needs her. I need her. Something I want to explain to Lucynda so that she doesn't think I'm a complete lunatic for hunting her down the way I did, but there's no way to tell her that truth without the potential of scaring her away.

At the masquerade, I didn't intend to feed on that willing human girl, I haven't fed much since she's come around. But I truly didn't have much of a choice if I wanted my full strength for my agenda tonight. But part of me also wanted her to see me. Deciding to finger that girl was more of a need to see pleasure draw from Lucynda, not to arouse the girl who was in my lap. I wanted her to see what I am and to know that she wasn't truly terrified. To feel satisfaction in the forbidden. I can still sense the way she felt when she locked her eyes on me. I know she felt gratification from the sins she witnessed.

"Your eyes." Lucynda breaks my thoughts as I try to regain control, and I fear that she saw my eyes change before I was able to turn away, but she indicates otherwise.

"Wait, I recognize you. You're the one who was biting that girl's neck. You're the reason she was bleeding and you're-" she cuts herself off, her tone is calm and unaffected, like a quiet rainstorm blanketing the night sky. Fearless.

I finally have myself under control, so I turn back around to face her again, the moonlight shining in from a small sliver of her window where the curtains aren't covering, casting a beautiful glow over her figure. I look at her, even though she seems to be trying to avoid looking at me.

" Horrifically romantic ," I say to her, and her breathing gets visibly faster, her chest rising and falling erratically. Her eyes close for a brief moment before she drops the mask without moving, letting it slip from her fingers as she slowly moves her eyes up to meet mine. I am utterly fascinated with her as the gears spin in her pretty head to work the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Have you been leaving me the roses? The notes?" Her tone is cynical almost, but not raised more than a soft and casual timbre. Vexation swirls in her eyes as she glares right at my own, her mouth a straight line on her face and her pale-colored cheeks heat up in a blaze of fury.

She's putting it together, the shadow stalker, the secret admirer, the Poe enthusiast. All at the expense of bringing her to this moment. To me . But she doesn't even know that half of it.

I can see the way her eyes tell a story of deception; tears threatening to free themselves on account of feeling betrayed. I can almost hear her heart cracking, on the verge of shattering into a million pieces as if it was even whole to begin with. I hate the way that makes me feel, never wanting to be the cause of her pain, but the truth is, her heart is mine to break and if that's what I had to do to get her here with me in this very moment, then so be it. Because she will be coming with me after tonight, whether she agrees to it or not.

"You." She lets out on an exhale, her fists curled at her sides. "You've been stalking me." Her conclusion comes abruptly, and I can see that she is trying to decide what to do with the new information she possesses. "You've been invading my space, my life."

I try my hardest not to intervene, to tell her to calm down and not be scared. To trust me. But I don't want to keep pushing her toward me only to push her away.

The moonlight shifts across her face just a sliver and that's when I can see that she's about to react the exact way I wanted to avoid. The stars in her eyes fade and something manic replaces them.

"You're absolutely fucking crazy. I'm calling the po-"

I rush to her, grabbing her by her shoulders and turning us to gently push her up against the wall, all within the blink of an eye.

"You have no idea how crazy I am, little one. But my crazy is no more outrageous as is your dark, now is it Lucynda?"

She gasps but doesn't fight me. Instead, she looks up at me and something that resembles desire ignites in her irises. A need for something I can't quite figure out radiates from her and it takes everything in me not to fall to my knees at my own weakness. But future kings aren't allowed to have vices, and despite Lucynda possibly being mine, I have to work through this lust just a little longer.

"Why me? What do you want?" she asks. I let go of her shoulders and place one of my palms up against the wall by her head. I let the other fall down to her hair, now disheveled from all of the chaos she's had to endure tonight. I reach behind her head and release some of her curls by removing the small butterfly clip and pocketing it.

Her soft breathing lingers between us as she allows me to run the tip of my finger from her hairline at her forehead, down to the perfect trace of her bottom lip, puffy from biting on it in a nervous state. I almost have the urge to do the same, to reach down and bite it. But I refrain, because it's too dangerous for me to corrupt her like that right now. It’s too dangerous to corrupt myself.

"You aren't afraid of me, are you, little one?" Her eyes flicker between my eyes and my lips, something fierce roars through me but I'm hanging onto my resolve by a fucking thread here. I want to enjoy the feeling of exploring her. Taunting her. Watching her crumble.

"Do you crave the taste of danger as much as you cling to your fantastical idea of finding a happily ever after , just like in your books?" I take my finger to trace the scar there on her cheek. The one I witnessed being born. The feeling of it is somewhat smooth under my touch as I slowly move the pad of my thumb across its slightly raised edges. She doesn't try to shake me away, instead she just lets me explore that piece of her that is branded by the pain she suffered that night. A night she has no idea I helped her escape.

"Please," she whispers, looking for an answer.

"Do not beg in front of me, Cyn. I won't survive it, and neither will you," I warn her. Feeling far too lost in my need for her and for the taste of blood to be able to accept defeat at the pretty sound of her begging. I need to accomplish what I came here to do tonight. Hearing her plead is too much for me to handle right now; I refuse to let her have this kind of power over me.

"What are you doing to me?" she asks, still holding my eye contact, helpless as I cage her in but willing to let me continue my curious caresses. My finger falls from her scar down to the collar of her dress, following the neckline as it dips down between her breasts. And I almost ask her the same question back, realizing that my task to accustom her to what is in store for her future has turned into a power struggle between my self-mastery and my deadly need for her.

"Nothing you don't want me to do," I assure her. Knowing that I'm invading her thoughts, and I don't feel guilty for it one bit.

"You don't know what I want," she argues but we both know that's not true. And it's evident in the way her breathing comes short and harsh. I remove myself an inch, taking my hand off the wall and pulling my other hand into my front pocket, savoring the feel of her skin on mine.

"If I told you that I can read your mind, little one," I watch her as she shifts against the wall, but not taking her eyes off mine, "would you believe me?"

I can see her apprehension melt just a little as satisfaction plays on my lips and dances in my eyes, watching her try to digest my words. I decide to help her understand a little better by feeding her a thought I know she knows all too well.

I focus my eyes on hers and enter that space that's open for invasion.

Listen.

I silently command her.

Breathe.

You're safe, and it's going to be okay.

"Wait…" Her eyes move from me to the floor after being held hostage for a moment or two.

She closes them for a second before fully removing herself from the wall, escaping the small space I held her to, and turning to me with fire in her eyes. " You ? You've been behind my illusions and the . . . the voices . You're the voice that's always in my head. But how? Why?"

"It’s what I had to do to get you here. But I also needed to keep you safe," I try to reassure her, approaching her in a more empathetic light. And I'm not lying. I do want to protect her, but only because I need her.

"Well, I don’t need you or anyone else to keep me safe . How the hell did you do it?!" she shouts, her rage vibrating through the air like an electricity surge.

"I beseech you to calm down, Lucynda."

“Do not tell me to calm down you . . . you monster! You made me feel like I was losing my mind, like I was going crazy!” Of course, my act of invasion has caused her to vilify me. I only needed to gain her trust. Despite my agenda, I didn’t mean to cause true harm . . . yet.

And normally, her rather theatrical outburst wouldn’t bother me too greatly, but I can see despair painting her expression and the betrayal that marks her eyes.

As I watch deception color her, I am surprised at my need to undo the carnage; unravel the truth and dismantle her belief that she's been actually going insane. Though, she's been suffering long before I entered her life and I don't care if it causes her to see me as the villain. I will not fail at this task.

That's what I am, isn't it? The villain. We suck humans dry of their blood and erase their memories thereof in order to live a life of power and feigned immortality. We use them to survive and even though some might be willing, we still take more than we give. I won't let some pretty little girl take away my need for revenge. I will see this through, even if I have to force her into it.

"I don’t know what you want from me but I want no part of it." Lucynda makes her voice heard as she stands her ground. "I don't need to be saved or protected by anyone. You don't even…" she stops herself and rewords her thought, "I don't even know you!" She points her finger at me, disappointment bleeding from her soul; I can feel it.

At this point, I'm starting to get annoyed with her perseverance to push back. But I do admire the hell out of her strength all the same. It's just in this current situation, I need her to be more willing .

I should have just fully corrupted her thoughts and made her believe she needed to marry me for whatever reason I wanted to give her. I could sit here and tell her all of the things that I think she'd want to hear just to make her feel better but I'm starting to lose my patience. I don't want to hurt her—not more than I have to—but I can't let her ruin this for me. I won't.

"Lucynda, I honestly don't have time for you to argue with me about any of this," I say to her, running my hand through my hair.

"Any of what? I don't even know what any of this is!" She raises her voice again and I try my hardest not to lose the last modicum of patience I've held for this entire conversation. She's right though, and this is where Zharus is going to say I told you so .

He said I should have done this the easy way instead of trying to ease her into the idea, but I know that when she hears what I have to offer her, she'll want it. No questions asked. Even if it has nothing to do with me, even if she wants nothing to do with me. I have to lure her into wanting this and by doing so, I need to be trustworthy in her eyes. I can't risk her wandering off.

"I know nothing makes sense to you right now, but I promise you'll understand everything soon." I grab Lucynda by the arm and drag her gently toward the front door with me, opting to walk her to the compound if only to reveal another secret to her, hoping it will help the process along.

"Where are you taking me?" She tries to yank herself free, and again, my anger gets the best of me, a fine perk of the curse. Though I am naturally a demanding and intimidating man, the curse brings it out tenfold, and this time it's accompanied by hunger and it's not the good kind.

"Lucynda, don't make me do this the easy way," I warn her, pushing her so that her back is flush with the door.

"You forcing me into doing whatever the hell your sick mind has planned for me is the easy way? I don't want to go anywhere with you!" She fights for her freedom with me against the front door, shoving her way past me and into the kitchen. I'm not sure where she intends to go, anywhere she thinks she can hide, I will find her.

She rushes over to a kitchen drawer and before I know it, my eyes are staring at the large silver blade of a butcher knife. It looks old and very harsh. My eyes dance between the glint of silver and the gray glass of her eyes.

That's when I realize what she's doing.

"Lucynda…" I warn, holding my hands up in the air.

"I'll fucking do it. I'll stab myself. Or maybe I'll stab you. Either this is a dream and I'll wake up from it or we're both fucking crazy and-" She waves the knife in the air before turning the blade toward her, both hands on the wooded handle, and positions the point of the weapon toward her stomach. "Get out of my head!" she screams.

How did I miss it? The signs that her intrusive thoughts were this bad. I know she's been through a lot for someone so young, I know she has demons but who doesn’t? That's why I think we were matched. And even though her actions right now are a little chaotic and concerning, I still don't sense true, guttural fear from her. I sense desperation. Darkness. Betrayal.

She isn't afraid of me or of what she might do. Fear is masked in her hatred for the outside world. For all who have made her feel so fucking small. For me, and what I have caused her to believe. But I know I can feel the desire deeply embedded in her, she just doesn’t want to believe that it’s obtainable.

Feeling my eyes burn and my heart race—or rather ache at the thought that she'd even consider stabbing herself for the sake of ridding the pain, or maybe she’s trying to best me—I decide to do this the way I said I was going to avoid. She doesn't have a choice right now; I can't risk her doing something stupid.

"Put the knife down, Lucynda," I prep her with my voice as I attempt to move closer without tipping her off. But I know more than anyone that any movement she makes, I can make mine faster.

Her hands shake with the blade, a tear escapes her eye, but she doesn't move.

"Lucynda." My voice is a threat in her wake, I can tell she's trying to fight my words.

"Stay back," she warns, pushing the knife an inch further into her own territory.

At this point, my bloodlust is starting to grow restless. Mix that with the outrage I feel toward her for putting herself in this situation, my blood is on a roaring boil. Or rather, I feel an intense anger at myself for a feeling that overpowers all else; the need to protect her from herself.

"Stop!" she yells as I step closer toward her, and I can feel the heat of fury rising so quickly to my neck that I snap without a moment's notice.

"Dammit, Lucynda. Put the fucking knife down!" My demand comes out harsh and thunderous as I pound my fist down onto the countertop beside her, watching the knife fall to the ground as the blade rings an echoed sound.

She shakes from the vibrations of my voice, and I know that now I have to do what I've held off on doing for so long.

I have to compel her.

But before I grab her by the shoulders to feed my words of encouragement to her, Lucynda looks down at where my fist hammered hell and her lip quivers.

"N-no," she stammers, another tear escaping her eye.

"What?" I question, not understanding where the sudden heart break is coming from.

"St-Stella." Her tone wobbles with sadness.

I look down to see that under my fist are the guts of the black widow. Black body matter is pressed into the countertop, the tiny red hourglass symbol deconstructed with the pressure of the hit I'd made, and a little pool of blood surrounds the lifeless body.

I can feel her body deflate. That's when I recognize that her need to have someone is stronger than her will to live at this point, and it just proves that this arrangement will be in her best interest because I am someone and I can mend her soul with the desires she craves. If only it means I have to break her in the end.

Do I feel bad for accidentally smashing her spider friend? Not when I have a darker soul to save and the craving of my own that I can't seem to shake.

She's pained by the death of an insect, yet her life seems insignificant enough to her that she'd hold a knife to her core. She's more broken than I thought.

She is devastatingly beautiful.

I wipe the spider guts from my hand off on the edge of the counter and decide to move forward with my plans to compel her. I place one of my hands on her shoulder and use the other to lift her chin to meet my eyes.

"You will come with me." I lower my voice to project safety, and I hold her still, focusing on her eyes and seeing my reflection in her glass-like stare. "You won't give me any more problems about where we're going, and you will obey me for the rest of the night, understand?" I watch her slowly nod out of obedience, so I let go of her and let go of the breath that I was holding.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes to me willingly and I sigh.

"I didn't want to do that," I admit as I reach for the tear that has since stained her cheek and wipe any proof of it having existed.

I really didn't want to invade her like that, it breaks the attempt at trust in the slightest. Especially because when she does accept her fate, all the times I’ve controlled her thoughts will come flooding back to her. So it's best I keep the compulsion to a minimum.

She allows me the gesture without any expression before she walks toward the front door and reaches down for her bag by the entry table. "Then why did you?" she asks, a lot calmer than she's been all night and I know it's because I compelled her to behave, in short.

"Because I want you. In fact, I need you, Lucynda. And I can't let you ruin this for me." My admission rolls off my tongue like a provoked avalanche, and I see the way she flinches.

She's slightly afraid of me now, probably because she's partially under my control and she recognizes that she's been intruded upon. I hate myself for it, but not so much as to know that I did what I had to do. Even if for selfish reasons.

We make it outside, and down to the end of Mainstreet without her causing any problems or raising hell. The last thing I need to do is compel a group of people to unsee or unhear what she might say or do. But at this hour of the night, or should I say morning, the only people wandering the streets are my Nocturnes. A few of them glance our way and nod their head in respect. They are all, by now, aware of who I'm walking with and what she will mean to the future of the Society.

Before the masquerade, I had informed everyone that it was the initiation for my new bride. The shock on my prior fiancé's face was priceless, and I bathed her in anger. But I didn't give her rage much attention otherwise.

We hold parties—most always masquerades when we decide to invite humans for entertainment—but not often do we get to celebrate a binding engagement. Vinculum Masquerades are specific to those binding an anima vinculum marriage as opposed to only marrying for contractual purposes. So they were all made very aware of who she was when she'd showed up for her own engagement party.

Lucynda doesn't notice the extra attention as her brain is most likely drowning in the control I spelled onto her. As we cross the street to start heading down Hollow Echo Drive toward Hollows Trace, Lucynda finally breaks her silence to ask me a question.

"Rivian?" Her soft timbre reaches up to my ears in a feathered whisper that almost makes my heart skip a beat, hearing her say my name like that lights a new flame inside of me.

"Yes," I answer her as we walk side by side down the dark road.

"What are you, and what do you want with me?" Her question isn't disobedient, she's not breaking my compulsion and I can see the sincerity in the curiosity that floods her eyes when she searches for an answer.

I decide it's time to rip off the proverbial band aid while she's still calm because I know by morning, all hell might break loose.

I stop us in our tracks for a brief moment and I gently turn her body to face me. I take a hand to her face and caress her cheek with my palm as I hold her eye contact steady on mine. The feeling of having her so close to me, her skin on my own, ignites something in me I haven't felt ever, and I know that this is the real deal. But for right now, I can't tell her that. So, I give it to her straight.

"I, Lucynda, am a vampire. The Dark Prince. And you are going to be my queen."