13. brilliantly broken

13

brilliantly broken

Rivian

He was alone in the house, and he'd made it too fucking easy for me. The asshole had just gotten done running bathwater for himself and I saw the opportunity arise, so I took it.

Lucynda had lured me there, and she had no clue she even possessed that kind of power. Neither did I. I could feel the presence of the tether which is why I felt compelled to save her. To avenge her. So I went back to give the pig who attempted a hateful act on an innocent girl something to die for.

I did enjoy the scream that barreled out of his puny mouth when he saw my reflection standing behind him in the mirror. I told him not to scream any further and his mouth shut instantly. I had watched him squirm with the need to cry for help, but I wouldn’t allow him the pleasure of someone hearing him the way I’d heard Lucynda.

I wanted to take my time with his death, but I heard voices coming from right outside the house and knew that someone was about to enter.

I grabbed him by the back of his neck and reared his head back, violently bouncing it off the tiled wall before shoving his bloody head under the water in the bathtub. I’m sure he was dead with the impact of his head being beaten against the wall, really. But the drowning made it look more accidental.

Deep maroon mixed with the crystal blue of the water, almost creating a vibrant purple in the waves that still clashed against the tub from the impact of me shoving him under. The painting before me was rather masterful if I had to say so myself.

Before leaving, I took a hard glance at my reflection in the mirror. I noticed the color change in my eyes and recognized that the smell of blood filled up my nostrils in intense waves as my cravings grew. So, I reached down and swiped at the wound on his head with my thumb and pulled it to my lips, reveling in the taste of satisfaction and death before disappearing off into the night. But I don’t say any of that part to Lucynda.

As I look down at her, I see relief, fascination, and slight terror swirl in her glass-like eyes. Her breathing is labored, either from a rise in adrenaline or from the fear of being so close to a killer. But killing a potential rapist shouldn’t scare her. Her life here with me should.

“Talk to me,” I say to her but without command. I am putting on quite the show for her. Or maybe I'm putting on a show for myself. I normally wouldn't have found myself needing or wanting to entertain more than a swift compulsion of obedience leading to the start and end of my plans.

But I crave her attention and feel bound to my obsession with her even if it’s not something I had planned to indulge in.

I’ve still got her caged in against the wall. Her chest is rising hard with her hyper fixated breaths and the chills that present themselves along the curve of her breasts fill me with a thirst I need to quench soon. I can’t control myself around her and it’s getting harder to fight. When she's sweet and calm, I feel guilt and a weakness that dares to break free if only to be soft with her for just a moment. When she fights back and shows her anger, it turns me on and makes me impetrate wicked things. Either way, I know I can't slip up no matter what side she shows me. I have to remain composed.

“I-” She doesn’t know what to say. I could take her thoughts from her, but I chose not to as she’s been such a good girl trying her best to keep herself obedient for me while I explain to her my need for her.

I can’t help it when I feel desire and lust radiate from her, confirming that she isn’t horrified or frightened that I am a murderer after all, at least of the monster who dare attempt to ruin her.

My heart starts to pick up the pace of its beating as I hear the pound of hers in her chest. Lucynda is way too fucking pretty to be left alone with a darkness like mine. I could ravage her right now seeing how vulnerable she is.

“You,” she starts to speak up, our bodies breathing closely together. “You killed my father . . . for me?” Her voice quakes in an unguarded tone, showing just how liable she is to be corrupted if only to understand how one would do something of any magnitude to benefit her.

I brush the hair out of her face with the back of my fingertips, careful not to touch too much of her for my own sake. The light in her eyes sparkles even in the shadows I have us confined too. I move my finger to her scar again, and her breath hitches, a shudder falling over her body as I skim the marking that was born in blood, hatred etched in its edges but power bound in its beauty.

I lean down to her, allowing my lips to get as close to hers as possible before I start to feel her push away. The pulse of need shatters inside of me, the bloodlust raging inside as I dare to tempt the line I know I shouldn’t cross.

“I killed your father for you, Lucynda. And I’d do it again. Over and over again until all of the rivers on this Earth ran red with the blood of your enemies, only for you.” My promise flits off my tongue, unaware at first of how vulnerable I have just made myself, and to a girl who might not even accept my offer of marriage let alone return my passionate need.

But do I truly care if my desires are reciprocated by her? Wouldn’t it be easiest if she felt numb to this whole agreement. Or am I simply a fool for considering the fact that I might actually be able to deny her in all of this. I can’t help but feel the strength of her call to me, my call to her. And she will have my respect no matter the outcome of our arrangement; I’ll make sure no one else is privileged enough to cause her any harm. But my intentions start to blur as I let the scent of her rosy venom take over my senses, her eyes roaming over every inch of my body.

For a second, I let my mind slip into hers and without volition, I get a glimpse of a thought running loose in that pretty head of hers, a vision of us kissing flashes in her eyes and I fear I can’t control the act.

But before I have time to decide if it's right or wrong, Lucynda reaches up on her toes and wraps her hands around the back of my neck. She pulls me down to her and though I know I should fight off her attempt, I physically can't and it's too late.

Lucynda's lips crash against mine in a kiss so powerful, it makes my heart stop. Her body tenses and I can’t make out if it’s from surprise, enjoyment, fear or all of the above. But that in itself is what ignites a flame that can’t be put out.

Her kiss seeps its way into my soul like a poison ivy, wrapping its tendrils around the chambers of my heart, caging it in when it begs to burst. When I am able to gain control, I force myself to pull away. I open my eyes to observe her reaction, but she keeps her body still, her breathing shallow, and her eyes closed.

I let myself lean back just a little and that’s when all hell breaks loose.

"You shouldn't have fucking done that," I warn her with a fierce, guttural tone. My fingertips brush against my lips as I feel my eyes darken and something visceral flashes through me.

“I'm sorry.” She shakes her head of the connection she'd made and pushes me back with her palms flat on my chest. I allow the contact to do it’s intended job, falling back out of line as I watch her storm off.

"Fuck," I say under my breath.

I made a fucking mistake. I allowed myself to feel the tether in its entirety and I found a moment of reprieve when I infiltrated her thoughts. I allowed the lust to take over and accepted her gesture. I could lose everything I’ve been working toward if I continue to let some injudicious lore-induced infatuation infiltrate my head like that.

I allow Lucynda the idea that she’s escaping before I materialize right in front of her. She made it halfway down the driveway, and before she can comprehend what is happening, I snatch her up by the shoulders and push her up against the nearest tree trunk. The sun has now made it up into the lower parts of the sky.

“Stop!” She swats her hands at me as she works hard for air. “Get away from me!” I don’t think she realizes that the fighter in her makes me ravenous.

I grab her wrists and hold them up above her head, exposing myself to the kicks she’s attempting to land.

“Lucynda,” I whisper, knowing that she’ll hear me and listen if I resort to a familiar coping mechanism she’s grown to need, something that won’t have much of an effect after the binding of marriage.

It's not a full compulsion, but rather a feather of control that I plant in her skull, and it only works if she wants it to. And I know that she wants it to, because she's allowed it this entire time; her broken and damaged pieces cling to the idea of having something tangible to grasp onto.

Her body seems to visibly relax, reacting to my voice.

“Unless you want the choice taken from you, I urge you to calm the hell down,” I demand with purchase. Her squirm for control comes to a halt as she listens to my request, but she refuses to look me in my eyes.

“I’m going to let you go now. Don’t do anything foolish.” I warn and with a nod of acceptance, I release her wrists from my hold.

“How did you do that?” she asks, her voice is husky with disappointment and rasp from screaming.

“The appearing act?” I clarify. “It’s called manifesting. Nocturnes can go anywhere, anytime, as long as their head is clear of obstruction. You’ll do good to remember that the next time you try to run from me,” I threaten. But only because I don’t like chasing things, soon-to-be-queen or not.

Her lungs find effort to steady her breathing as she finally looks up to me.

“I kissed you, Rivian. I…that-” she mumbles over her words as she states the obvious.

I turn my head at the sight of her feathering her fingertips over her lips where the memory of her still burns on mine; the poison ivy still gripping my soul. I can’t let this siren coerce me into surrender.

“It will not happen again. It was a mistake,” I say to her, though more so instilling the thought into my own head, rather than hers. The last thing I need is for Lucynda to develop some kind of Stockholm Syndrome obsession, seeing as I am practically holding her against her will and she had the nerve to kiss me.

“It was my first kiss.” Her admission does everything except escape me unnoticed and I grow esurient and betrayed all in the same breath.

I take a step back, feeling the change in my person being executed by the bloodlust and the tether in unison. Frissons of fear and lust overwhelm my desire to remain composed; the remnants of my resolve shattering like an overheated light bulb.

I watch as panic plunders her ability to breathe.

“Lucynda," I say her name in a careful tone, heedful of the claim it has on her ability to collect herself for just a minute so that I can ask her the question that tiptoes to the front of my mind.

“Are you still a virgin?” It was irresponsible of me to have not known this covert piece of information. But I didn’t start truly keeping tabs on her until I knew her eighteenth birthday was approaching, knowing that I needed to get her here.

This vital piece of information might not necessarily change things but it will definitely make it more complicated to navigate my denial of craving her.

How the fuck am I supposed to convince her to marry me and perform the blood binding? The latter in itself is scary enough of an intimate ceremony, let alone having to perform it with the knowledge that I will have to teach her all while creating a monster out of her.

Her hollowed eyes look up into mine, pain seeping from the expression of them.

“Yes.” Her answer is a feather floating in the air and a parade of elephants all the same. Faint and piercing.

I throw my hand in my hair, feeling so fucked in this moment for allowing myself the luxury of following a stupid desire for revenge. Every second I've spent working to execute this plan crumbles to my feet in a mess of regret and annoyance.

“If I do this.” Lucynda's voice is shaky and unsure. Nothing like what I’ve known her to be the last few weeks of watching her. But that’s because she’s been hiding behind a facade of who she wants to be, not ever having been allowed to truly be herself. And in this moment, she is choosing to be vulnerable. She gave herself an ounce of bravery to kiss me, breaking apart the chains that I held against the greedy parts of me who crave her, and compromising herself for ruin.

“No,” I interrupt her from saying more. “It’s off. Forget everything I said.” I spin to pin her against the tree again, knowing that I have to make her forget.

I could just swallow my pride and marry the prospect my father lined up for me. All will be well. I'll still manage to gain order of the Society; power will still be stronger than ever, and I'll have a successful run; the idea for vengeance not entirely obliterated but harder to manage.

I grab Lucynda by her shoulders and focus my vision onto her eyes, a tear falls down the curve of her cheek.

“Please don’t, Rivian,” she pleads. “Please don’t take away any more than what’s already been taken for me. Please just-” A punch to my gut as I hear her argument, knowing damn well what she’s referring to. And hell did I know better. But really, I am no better. I chose not to be any better because she is more to me than a marriage. She is a means to an end and unfortunately for her, I am carved from a tattered cloth, cloaked in sin and rejection, bound by the shards of broken promises. I can’t be better.

However, none of that seems to take precedence in my mind as I unintendedly succumb to the tether. The pull she has to me is dangerous and overpowering. Her kiss did justice in making sure I never forget what having her lips on mine feels like, something I am burning to feel again. But I can't slip into the depths of her siren song, the way I gravitate toward her is a crime committed by my lonely heart and one I need to remain innocent of.

“I just need time,” she continues. “I’m sorry I ran. I think I want this. I do. But I just need time to come to terms with all of this. With you .” I can see that she’s not as worked up as she was when she ran, so I let go of my hold on her and all she does is release the tension in her posture.

If she’s willing to sacrifice herself to me, I think we can make this work. But I can't make her believe that anything more than just an arranged marriage will come of this. No false hopes of finding love or catching feelings. Instead, I need to flip the script and feed her an idea that will entice her to hold the crown with me. I won't shy away from letting her know about the anima vinculum. And I will honor what little I can of that vow. But she needs to truly believe she was meant to be here and that will be, without doubt, a varying feat. But when it comes to all else, I will not let her intoxicating allure captivate me anymore.

“How much time do you need?” I step back and allow her space to breathe, entertaining the idea of possibly allowing this to go on.

“A day,” she breathes. “Two days tops.”

“I can give you two days, Lucynda, but nothing more. And I need you to think long and hard about what little I told you because I can guarantee there is more that may haunt you. Traumatize you even. So I need you to be ready because if you say yes, there will be no going back.” I won’t let her back out. I don’t have time to let her think things over just to agree and then change her mind. Accommodations for these sorts of things take time and I already don’t have much of it.

“Fine, but I want my space, Rivian. No stalking or roses of any sort. No voices.” Her voice sounds unconvinced as her tone falters. “But in case I do want to get a hold of you…”

“Just say my name. I’ll come. Or there’s always your cell phone. My number is saved.”

“You have a cell phone?” Her question comes innocently in a curious tone, and it’s cute for her to ask such a strange thing.

“I’m a vampire, Lucynda. I’m not allergic to technology,” I quip but I don’t get anything more than the tired eyes she’s been fighting for hours now.

“I’ll think over your offer and you give me space until I’m ready, deal?”

“Two days, Lucynda or I will come for you.” I make sure she hears my demand, and she nods her head. Little does she know, I have no intention of letting her say no. I'm only entertaining her request in hopes she'll decide all on her own that this is what she wants.

She starts to walk off toward the path. I thought about offering her a ride from my driver, but I know more than anyone that my little one loves a thought-provoking walk.

Before she gets too far, she turns back around to face me.

“Rivian? You said that you’d get a queen out of this whole thing. A queen and what else?”

“Power,” I tell her. Knowing that she doesn’t need the long version or the real truth about my intentions at this point, it isn't significant enough to her.

“And what would I get out of this?”

I watch as Lucynda’s eyes stare at me, reflecting the brilliantly broken girl I craved to capture. But now, as she ventures into the idea of actually marrying me, I know that I might lose focus. The image of her standing at the altar in a wedding gown flips through my brain and embeds itself like a disease.

But I form the truthful, yet easy answer to her question, knowing that what I’m about to tell her is more important to her than the frivolous idea of love or the truth that I seek, which providentially is the same exact thing.

“Revenge.”