39. bathed in blood - part 2

39

bathed in blood - part 2

Rivian

"Fuck, what happened to you?" Troy's tone creeps up from beside me as I manifest to the foyer in my castle, seeing her rush out of my office in what looks like confusion. “I was looking for you everywhere.”

I don't have time nor want to skirt around with small talk as to why my dress shirt is unbuttoned and sullied in the blood of others.

"Is Lucynda here?" I ask rather flustered in comparison to my usually calm demeanor, ignoring her concerns and questions.

"I think so but-"

"Troian, I don't have time for this exasperating frolic. What do you want?" I hold up my palm to her, stopping her from following me further.

Rejection falls on her face when she answers my question, and I can tell I've struck a nerve. But what's new?

"I talked to my mom."

"You did?" I hate to say, that’s what gets my attention. Ameliana.

"Yeah, she said she'll come. She'll be here in a few days, she just has to take care of some stuff first."

Realization dawns on me that I'll finally have everything I want. Well, not everything but I'll be able to keep my word.

"What do you want with my mom, Rivian?" There it is. The infamous question. If my sister were able to read into the depth of my mind, she'd be able to see the truth. The real reason why I wanted to lure her mom into the castle. I thought my marriage to Lucynda would have done it, but I guess I was wrong.

"I want to form peace," I lie. "If she has anything to do with why someone might be trying to pin your brother for all of this, then I need answers." I turn around to head back down the hall, eager to get to my newly-found murderous wife.

"Do you want to know something?" Troy shouts down the hall before I can make it too far.

"What would that be?" I stop but don't turn to face her just yet, feeling annoyance at the dance she’s making me perform.

"When we were little, I remember a few times where you would be missing, sometimes for days. The castle was big enough to where sometimes we wouldn't see each other but I knew something had happened to you because when I would ask daddy where you were, he'd tell me to mind my own business." Her words are vehement, her tone laced with sincere sympathy. "One day, I saw you. I saw Natasha taking you from downstairs and up to your room. You didn't look good at all, like you were hungry and tired. Weak."

"What is your point?" I grow displeasingly bored with the reminder of my childhood, not knowing what this has to do with anything of the present other than why I am the way I am.

I turn to look at my sister as agony colors her eyes. Almost like she feels sorry for me. If she knew the torment that led me to this place, she'd likely be trying to destroy me.

"Trav said something to you the other day, when he was talking about your mom.” She sighs. “I know what dad was doing to you. He was locking you away and starving you. I didn't know why. And I still don't know why he would do something like that. But it made me angry for you. One day, I asked you about it, remember? And you told me to mind my own business and told me to leave you alone. You thought I walked away and I wanted to respect your wishes, but I stayed outside your door for a few hours to make sure you were okay." She lets in a breath of fresh air, a tear trailing down her cheek. I've never seen my sister cry. "Do you wanna know what I heard you say?"

I bore my eyes into hers, already knowing the exact things she's about to replay for the both of us; the memory being the pivotal moment in my life, the one that created this craving for chaos and expectation of conviction.

She lowers her head and her whispered words linger between us.

"I will ruin my step-mom if it's the last thing I do." Troian steps closer while I take a step back. I'm not one to back down or recede, but I don't want to feel the sorrow that bleeds from her. I can't handle anyone else's pain right now; I won't even assess my own. It's too much.

"I didn't want to believe what I heard back then. We were kids. But I'm sure of what I heard now.” Sorrow falls on her face. This is the moment I know for sure that she won’t forgive me. I might lose her forever. “Please don't hurt her, Rivian. I don't know what she did to you, but she's my mom. I want a chance to get to know her."

I allow my sister her words, and I wish that I was honorable enough to actually listen to them or to consider them. But I do not owe her that luxury in light of the promise I made to my own mom. No one granted her the same mercy when they took everything from her. Everything from me. I want to appease everyone, but Ameliana is not an innocent woman. She deserves what's coming.

I turn my back and proceed to leave, walking down the hallway to find my queen. But I peer behind me to leave my sister with one last truth.

"At least you'll get a chance. Don't forget, she left you ."

"Lucynda?" My voice echoes off the delicately decorated walls, the windows still open allowing a refreshing breeze to travel through the air. I know that she's here because I smell the blood thick in the air.

"Cyn?" I hear a small sob rumble lightly from her bathroom. I rush to the sound, finding her curled up on the bathroom floor.

"Fuck, baby. I thought I told you to clean off." I hate seeing her like this. I hate seeing my muse so utterly destroyed with conflicting thoughts and feelings.

"I couldn't. I didn't want to-" I lean down to pick her up off the floor, her body is hot and shaking. Her transformation is finally close and hopefully, her amplified feelings will start to settle down.

"What happened? Does anyone know?" she asks as she clings to me, desperate to be comforted in her act of treason, sin, and murder.

"No one knows. No one will find out." I brush my fingers against her blood-soaked hair as she buries her head against my chest.

I've comforted Lucynda before. We've been intertwined in more ways than one but this . . . this feels different and raw, and I can feel our tether working in earnest, against my better judgment, to fill a void both of us know can't be remedied otherwise.

"You promise?"

"I promise." My whisper satisfies her, I can see it in the way her eyes accept my words for truth.

I pick her up, swinging her legs over my arms, carrying her out of the bathroom and onto her bed.

I can feel her heart beating in overtime, working to keep the blood flowing while her mental torment tries to simmer.

"It felt good, Rivian. So fucking good.” Her confession nearly shocks me. Not what I was expecting her to say. “When I watched them laugh and eat together, it made me so angry for the shit they put me through. I wanted to just walk away but I think I made a noise, and they heard me. Fiona was the first one to notice me and she flipped out, calling me some kind of name and I panicked."

"It triggered you,” I tell her.

"Everything felt like it was on fire, and I just snapped. Didn't even feel my feet move when I ran to her. I forced her down on the table over their stupid spread of steak and mashed potatoes and I just-" I allow the moment of pause as I set her down on the bed.

I help her to remove her soiled clothes starting with her shoes and socks, peeling layers off of her body as she goes into detail about what transpired after she manifested into her old home.

"When I ripped into her neck the first time, I did it out of anger and because she scared me. The second time was because she wouldn't stop screaming. The third time was because she tasted good. The fourth . . . well I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop."

I know I shouldn't let it, but my own bloodlust starts to rise as she talks about how good it felt for her to let her hunger take over. I know that feeling all too well. And while Cyn's family is not innocent to the bullying they had put her through, they technically posed no threat and as far as we knew, had no victims of their own. So they were innocent, and my wife really did break the treaty.

But I took care of it.

I'll always take care of it.

I pull off her leggings, she lifts herself to help me do so, and then she reaches her arms up and allows me to strip her of her sweater.

"You should go wash up now." I am trying to keep composure, but she's sitting in front of me in a vulnerable state, stripped down to her undergarments, dripping with the one thing I can't deny myself the pleasure of and it's taking everything in me to not tempt that line.

"I was jealous. Of you and that girl. What she said . . . it did get under my skin. And I had no right to be jealous, even if it was true. I know you don't love me. I've accepted that. But I still can't stand the thought of any other person having you the way that I have you." I listen to the way her heart shatters as she speaks.

I have the means to make or break her and I am still stuck between the untimely conceptualization of right and wrong, need and want; morality blurred when I think about the future with Lucynda. Will there even be a future?

"No one else has me," I assure Lucynda, even though it might not mean much to her in this moment. That concept will always remain the truth. My loyalty to my wife as a husband will not be questioned. "Birdania was chosen for me by my father. He did not know about you. No one did. I needed to wait to make sure that you'd find your way here. As soon as I was sure you would accept, I called off the engagement with Birdie. You're the only one who has me." She doesn't need to know anything else. That she was always going to be here given who she is. She'll never understand why I used her. But I'd have to let her go at some point because my doubt in her forgiveness is the one thing that causes me to consider myself to lose all focus on what my initial plan was.

I'm not only the one with conflicting issues or thoughts.

"Show me," she whispers.

Lucynda wasn't fragile like a flower, like a decaying rose gasping for air. No. She was fragile like a bomb, ready to shatter into a million broken pieces at any moment. She needed me and I misplaced her desire for another, not knowing exactly how to proceed because I was focused on my own path of vengeance. I still am. But I'm drawn to the fire in Lucynda. She is my flame. My muse.

I can no longer deny her even after all that I have done to push the notion of love aside. She riddles me with desire, and I crave the way she feels when she's all in.

Though I have too been deprived of the family that I desired, so I know how she feels. And that's where our bond strengthens. And for a second, I allow myself to believe that maybe she will understand.

"Lucynda, there is something I have to tell you." I settle in next to her on the bed, reaching for her ankles as I pull both of her legs up and rest them over my lap.

Her breath hitches as I run my fingers up her bare legs, allowing the feather of my fingertips to cause chills on her blood-stained skin. I drag my touch up to the curvature where her hips meet her thighs, tracing over the fabric over her thong then up to the lace bra covering her breasts.

I lean in, letting her curl into me while I caress her skin with my fingers, blood still wet in places under my touch, until they make their way up to the curve of her plump bottom lip.

"What is it?" she asks, letting her voice sink low between us, soaking in the impurity of our sensual gratification.

"I want to prepare you for something I have to do, and I need you to know that it isn't going to be pretty, and it will likely cause me to be deemed as an enemy to a lot of people in and out of the Society." I watch as she listens, hanging on to my every word as normal.

"I won't leave your side, Rivian. Whatever it is, I'll be here." I let my thumb pull at her bottom lip before bringing it back up the scar that caresses her cheek, splattered with little dots of dried blood.

"You just came to my rescue without blinking an eye. I owe you for that. And even if I didn't owe you for that, I'd still stand by your side, Rivian. I made a vow to you." Her admission sinks low in my gut and remedies the guilt I've been feeling.

She rests her head in the palm of my hand and leans into my embrace, her legs still in my lap and her chest rising and falling in anticipation.

All blood and tears, revenge and sympathy. My sweet sin is a devastating vice.

I grip her by the back of her head, pulling her in to close the gap between us and there's not a second more of time to allow us to revel in the moment before her lips greedily crash into mine.

Our kissing is rushed and desperate, our tongues racing to dance with each other. I feel her squirm beneath me as I taste the dried blood on her lips when the scent of fresh blood reaches my nostrils.

"Cyn.” I look into her eyes. “You're bleeding." I pull away and whisper darkly against her mouth as all of my senses rage with hunger at the smell.

"What no, I-" She searches her body for wounds, but I know she won't find any. "They didn't touch me. This is all her blood," she defends, trying to understand what I'm talking about.

"No, I mean . . . you're bleeding ." I look down to the space between us.

She follows my eyes and looks down before starting to curl into herself, realizing just what I was talking about.

"Wait, how is that possible?" Shouldn't I be-?" Her face contorts with confusion and embarrassment as she tries to wiggle out of my embrace but I hold her in place, denying her the ability to leave. "How do you know?"

"I can smell you." I become ravenous with the thirst for her blood, and I know she can see the change in my eyes become so visceral that it stops her in her tracks, focusing solely on how I crave for her.

I try to retain a semblance of control as I explain to her what is happening to her body.

"Your body is at the edge of completing transition. Hence the severe thirst for blood and the over-emotional feelings that have ravaged you. Your body is finishing out the rejection of every last ounce of human blood you have because the bind can only take on so much." I swing her legs back over, letting them fall out of my lap as I stand. I lift her up by her waist and move her up on the bed so that she's positioned in the middle of it. She gasps as I toss her down gently.

"You won't bleed for long," I say in a lusty tone, letting my greed take over all else as I reach up to grab at the strap of her thong, forcefully pulling it down.

"Riv, what are you doing?" She seems to feign denial and attempts to repel from my action, but I pull her back to me so that her ass is at the edge of the bed. A perfect position for me to strip her of the sad piece of fabric holding back what I crave most.

Once I get her panties removed, I position her legs up and spread her apart, my hands on her knees as she opens wide for me.

"Riv, you don't have to do this." she mutters as I push her down flat onto the bed, and I can hear the way her heart skips a beat, excited for what comes next.

"Little one, I don't know if you know this, but you have blood smeared all over your body. I don't see a problem if it's also dripping from you." I lower my head between her legs and trace my tongue along the gooseflesh of her skin until I reach the apex of her thighs.

"I don't-" Lucynda is flustered from lust and greed but also indecision of whether or not she wants to let herself give into this.

"Just a little taste, Cyn." I lick my lips, smelling the sweet tangy scent invading my senses. I look down between her legs, hearing her whimpers as she fights the desire to let me have her.

No actual trace of blood is visibly present just yet but the moment I enter her with my fingers, I know I'll draw it out of her.

"Please." I don't care if I’m damn near begging for her to let me in, but I can't stand the denial of my wife's bloodied pleasure.

She sucks her bottom lip in between her teeth and gives me a greedy nod of approval, watching the moment I take my answer and act on it.

I slide my tongue through her slit, not wasting a moment more to taste the sweetness of her arousal. She's already wet from the thrill of how dirty this can get, and I groan with satisfaction.

I retreat to kiss her soft lips, loving the way she squirms when I take them in my mouth and use my teeth to test her sensitivity.

But I don't hover for too long before I spread her apart with my thumbs and trace her entrance once more with tongue.

"Oh, fuck!" she cries and my dick hardens in my bloodied pants at the sound of her anguished tone.

I trail my tongue to her clit and swipe my fingers through her wetness before thrusting them gently into her greedy pussy. Her walls clamp around me and that's when I feel the slight flood of heavy liquid trapped around my fingers. I pleasure her clit while my fingers stay stuck inside of her for just a few more seconds before pulling them out of her.

Her blood starts to coat my fingers, and I don't deny myself the luxury of the thirst that wreaks havoc in my veins. I lick up the blood, reveling in the metallicity of the way it hits my tongue, flooding all of my senses in a frenzy of antagonizing delight.

She tastes like every deeply, darkly, unhinged thought I've ever craved to bring to life. My sweet sin is bleeding so prettily for me, watching as I lap at the pleasure she produces just for me.

It's then that I realize that this tether can either be my most preeminent strength or my gravest regret. My undeniable rise to respect or my utterly destructive downfall.

Either way, I'm annihilated by my wife and how she caters to my every craving without question. How she suffers mentally and emotionally all to satisfy my needs and my asks.

I lick my lips, loving the way she watches me taste her. Her silver eyes shift from the light of the sun on a gentle spring day to the darkness of a harsh winter night all while carrying the demure of a queen submitting to the nefarious actions her king intends to ensue.

"I have to admit, Lucynda," I start as I lower my mouth back down to her core, letting my whisper skate over her sensitive skin, her pussy now gently smeared in the maroon elixir that stirs desires within me. "I have a lot of sins that I shall repent, but of all of them, you are my absolute favorite." I lick the liquid painting her pretty pussy red, mixing with the natural pool of her arousal. "But you are a sin I'll never confess to regret."

"Oh god." Pleasure twists on her face as I start to work her into a frenzy, needing to pull her orgasm out of her.

I thrust my fingers back inside her, but this time I curl them up and pull them out before repeating the rhythmic gesture over and over, mixing with the assault of my tongue lashing against her clit. She moans as she grips the sheets with one hand and twists her fingers in my hair with the other. I reach up and yank down one of the cups of her bra, freeing her breast and watching her nipple peak as the cold air hits it.

I twist the pink bud in my fingers for only a second before I have to hold Lucynda down while she starts to shake under me, the tell that she's about to come undone.

"I'm so fucking proud of you, Cyn. You deserve this. Take your pleasure from me." I kiss her inner thigh while pumping my fingers in and out of her wanton pussy, seeing the way her breath evades her as she arches her back, begging for my mouth back on her clit.

I press my lips over the sensitive spot before using my teeth to gently capture it, pulling as softly as I can before using my tongue to brush over it in a wet, delicate lick. I let it go then move steady circles over it as I thrust my fingers so deep inside her. I can hear the vibrant sounds of her cum mixing with her blood, seeping past my fingers as she soaks me entirely.

"Rivian, please don't fucking stop!" Torment laces her tone as her eyes grow heavy and roll back, her orgasm ripping through her.

Breathy moans of satisfaction penetrate my ears and reverberate through the room, creating echoes of symphonic bliss as I slow my thrusts, watching my wife break apart in front of me in the most deliriously and unholy way.

Her breaths start to come in harsh and slow. Her body relaxes from the tension and her face is flushed with the most beautiful post orgasmic glow.

" Fuck , you are intoxicating to watch when you come, Cyn." I press one last kiss against the soft skin of her pussy before leaning up to see her struggling for air.

I lift her up, pulling her body to mine. She's a disastrous ruin of all the things my nightmares are made of. I'm wrecked for this girl. I've crossed the line of denying her any longer, I'll never be able to escape the ecstasy of the music she just made for me.

Love is no longer a line blurred. But as I watch my wife pull me in for a kiss, savoring the taste of her arousal blended with the tanginess of her blood, licking my lips before taking them between her teeth entirely, I know then that I think I might have always been subjected to the lies within.

My obsession was never going to be enough.

Retribution is never going to be enough.

I have to have both.

I will have both.

In life or in death.