38. bathed in blood - part 1

38

bathed in blood - part 1

Rivian

The sight before me is almost euphoric. I'm deranged enough to feel delectated by it, but the scene is unholy enough for me to hold worry.

My wife is impurely besmeared in blood. The smell of the metallic delight wafts through the air and levitates under my nostrils, causing my eyes to shift in a brutal battle of cravings, my hunger stirring at the smell. Even considering, my brain is concentrated on the thought that I have to remedy this.

"Lucynda, what happened?"

I look at my wife, blood drips from her chin, her neck, her fingers. It's matted in her snow-white hair, the red bleeds into the strands and creates the most sinfully serene sight. Fear paints her expression; her once gray eyes now shatter with an ambiance of black swirls laced with danger against ominous hues of lavenders and silvers. Something I am utterly enthralled by.

The lore of lavender eyes in hungered Nocturnes is another rarity, but the fact behind the notion is that they are driven by the most powerful of emotions only to be concealed by the damage that has been done to their souls. It's rare that someone has enough light and dark energy to harness power from more than one damning feeling, but to comprise yourself of two of the strongest emotions one can feel is impressively dangerous, really.

She is propelled by love but dissembled by wrath.

This can only mean one thing.

Lucynda is a fallen angel incarnate, rebelling against her true desire only to feel powerful in another. In exact terms, Lucynda is a lavendulan messorem Nocturne. Only now, she's with royal blood.

A beautiful danger to the world if mishandled or abused.

"I didn't mean to, I just-I was so mad at you and I didn't mean to, but I closed my eyes and I was here." Her defense is panicked; her hands are out in front of her, shaking with regret and a slight semblance of terror.

"I watched them for a little bit. Then a little bit turned into hours. I started to feel envy and hatred. They seemed so happy, and I was afflicted with pain and anger. I couldn't control the…" she trails off and I watch as she tries to form her words, guilt pummels my insides as I watch the monster I created fight a battle she'll never win.

"The bloodlust," I answer for her.

"All I wanted was you. I'm trying so hard to get you to see that! I know what you said, and I don't know why I can't just let it go but—God, you really fucked with my head . . . you know that, Rivian.

“I had every intention to stay in my room and never see you again, as childish as that sounds, but I thought about how much I hated you and then I was here." Her tone is hoarse.

"Your brain can't shut off emotions. Your anger with me triggered a memory that felt heightened the most in that moment." The observation is truthful, and I recognize just how much influence I've had over this very moment as I connect the dots.

"The day they stuck the gum to my stupid seat in high school. The day my dad hit me for the first time." Lucynda reluctantly brings up the old memory that led her to this very moment here with me. But only because I didn't give her a chance to prove her worth. I abused her trust and led her to believe she was only strong enough for one thing . . . revenge . And now, her vampirism will likely be as dangerous as mine, only I've let go of my hope for love long ago. Her battered passion is bathed in it.

It's a treacherous idea. A consuming feeling. It would only make sense how that moment of loneliness she revisited would be in comparison to her relationship with me.

"It was the way Birdie was talking to me, and the way you didn't stand up for me. It felt too fucking close to home and I lost it."

Her cadence is dry from pain and quiet from sadness.

I've always given Lucynda credit for reveling in her shadows while still finding a way to be the light.

But both of those things are now shaded by stints of betrayal and pain. The revelation that she'll no longer hold space for hope in her heart does more than set worry in my mind. It means that the memories of her mom leaving her, the way her dad treated her, the abuse she suffered, and even now, the memories she's making of how her husband denies her the most basic need, are all too deeply rooted into her core. They are embedded into the pockets of her soul, sewn shut and disintegrating into tiny shards of unequivocally damaging reminders of why she can't let anyone else in. Why she needs to give up on who she really is so as not to let another single being have the chance to break her further than she already is.

"Fuck," I say under my breath. This is not good.

"I killed her." Sobs rack my wife, her tears mixing with the blood stains on her delicate skin. "I killed my step-sister. What am I going to do?"

"Where is your step-mom and . . . the other one?" I make a note of the lack of bodies, seeing enough blood, but only one dead girl is laid out effortlessly on the table.

"Ferra screamed as soon as she saw me, she ran downstairs I think and Hildi-" Panic invades her and I know damage control has to be done here. We're already under severe duress for the treason accusations and this is definitely a case that won't help put us in the right direction.

"I don't know Rivian. It happened so fucking fast. I just snapped and-" Her breathing becomes sporadic; I can hear her heart mere seconds away from exploding in her chest. "There's so much blood and I-the treaty. Is this against the treaty? How did I fuck this is up so badly?"

"Because they fucked you up badly, baby. Because I-"

I'm close to admitting my fault in all of this, my fault in her downfall. But the sound of sirens echo in the distance and I know I don't have time to stall any longer.

"You need to get out of here," I say to her as I hear the heartbeats of two more humans in the distance. Her step-mother and the other sister must still be in this house, hiding.

"No, this is my fault. My mess. And I'm still upset with you!" Her stubbornness is a strength to her but an annoyance to me. Normally, I'd allow her the luxury to make her own choices and resolve problems for herself. But I am her husband and despite the one thing I've refused to give her, I won't deny her anything else.

"You need to get over it because if you get caught here…"

"Maybe I should get caught." Her statement irks me. She’s risked all of this—allowing a villain to intrude upon her life, convince her to marry into a vampiric Society and thrive on the hope for vengeance, feeding on blood for the rest of her life, and possibly being connected to every negative connotation of evil acts and iniquitous natures that vampires have to live with—just to throw it away because she let her anger get the best of her.

It happens to all of us, at least once.

"Lucynda." I try to talk her down from her frantic self-sabotage. I know she's on the verge of her transition coming to the final stages and while she may not feel the physical pain anymore, this is when her emotions torment her the most.

She'll be feeling everything tenfold until midnight. And her lust for blood only intensifies because of it, hence the mangled body sprawled out in front of me.

I rush to Lucynda, having been careful this whole time not to impose on her space and risking another outburst from her. But we do not have time for pleasantries and respecting boundaries.

I grip her face, bringing my mouth close to hers and making sure our eyes meet each other. I let my hunger-induced stare take over as I match her aesthetic. She gasps.

"I understand that you might not want to see me right now, but I am already here. And unfortunately for the both of us, I cannot escape these incessant thoughts of needing you; needing to protect you. Your lips have been imprinted on my skin. Your scent is embedded in my brain. Your name is a whisper on my tongue, and you are a craving that has been seared into the layers of my soul. You can fight me all you want, my sweet sin. But your heart is mine to break, remember? Now quit being so fucking stubborn and let me help you." I let the truth spill from my lips, hopefully it'll give her something to hang onto as I figure out how to navigate the most alluringly perilous being in my existence.

Her tears stop at my words. Something twists in her head and forces her to accept my words.

"I will take care of this. But I need you to focus on getting back home. Can you do that for me?"

"I don't know where home is anymore, Rivian." Her conclusion is heartbreaking, even for me. I know that feeling all too well.

Part of me wonders if I should have just told her all my secrets from the start and allowed her to compare hers to my own. We might be more of a match than I ever would have known and our natural bond could have thrived. We wouldn't have needed to fight each other on feelings and future plans. Though the inevitable remains. I am carved from the cloth of wrath and war, born in the hatred of myself and spiteful to love.

But I have to embrace it as much as I can, if simply for the hope that I can get Lucynda out of the mess I've created for her only to throw her back into the debris.

"Me. I am your home."

Bewilderment and confusion contorts on Lucynda's face as the sirens get louder in the background.

She shakes her head and I know she's trying to avoid my words. Words that hold truth despite the outlying context she craves.

"I can't do it. I'm not strong enough."

"You were always strong enough. I'm sorry the world has made you feel otherwise."

I pull her into me and press a kiss to her forehead. "I'm right behind you."

I let her go and she nods, a small smile caresses her beautiful lips and before I know it, she's gone. Vanished into thin air.

The sirens surround me and I know I have to rectify this immediately.