CONTAINS CONTENT:
Minor sexual themes, thematic elements, vampiric imagery, and implications of child abuse.
{{Unedited}}
More than a week had passed and everyone was on edge as October changed the calendars all over Valorant.
Vincent had switched and rotated everyone in the training room a few times so everyone got a chance to run the game, times, and use their abilities in scenarios that Liam, Vincent, and Wei Ling believed were likely.
Klara continued to watch the globe on her machines for any suspicious activity and tears in the dimensional fabric. She saw nothing, but admitted to often being distracted by Tayane. Still, there were no alarms, bells or whistles.
For at least a few days, Marielle stayed clear of Austin. She heard him in his office, of course, and she saw him look at her, but she refused to talk to him more than a word or two. He was obviously broken over it, but tried to give her space, going home every night in sadness and finishing his ice cream alone.
A week had passed with tensions high, and after about eight days of silent working in the lab, Sabine turned from her station in the lab to see Vincent staring at her. She narrowed her eyes and whirled around, looking over a chart that had equations on it.
Both Klara and Kirra were shifting uncomfortably, feeling the tension in the room. Klara blew a big, pink bubble with her gum, and sucked it back into her mouth before chewing, and looking down at her notes. Kirra was even less sure of what to do.
Sabine was swirling something in a tube, when she felt breath on her shoulder, and she glanced to see Vincent there. He wasn’t super close, but he was too close for her comfort. If she could have actually hissed at him, she would have. But without this superpower, she turned, trying to ignore him.
She picked up one of her Viper brands – this had been a bit of metal that she’d shaped into a snake and had often used to brand something that she’d sent off to be analyzed – she took a blowtorch and began to heat it up in a way that was obviously meant to be threatening to him as he stood watching her in silence. The snake symbol started to glow red and she saw Vincent glare at it out of the corner of her eye. She smirked, thinking that he might feel threatened, but when she met eyes with him, it was more like he was in a memory.
“Can you ever forgive me?” he asked referring to the training room.
Sabine’s top lip curled into a snarl. “Why? You obviously don’t care.”
He sighed, heavily. “I care about you. Even if you think I don’t.” She turned to him, searching his almond-colored eyes with her own disdain. “It’s because I care about you that I behaved that way.”
She tilted her head, her green eyes blaring. “You have an interesting way of showing it.”
“Come on, Sabine,” he dared. “We both know that you’re not hurt. You can brush off anything.”
“You know,” she began, taking the brand and pressing it against a wooden crate to her left filled with samples that she’d taken. She seared the grains, and pulled it back, watching the brown sizzle red for a moment. A snake shape darkened the wood. “I tried to get you to speak to me for almost nine days,” she said icily. Then she cut her eyes to him. “You could have said anything…” He was silent. She set the metal aside and closed the box, placing the lid over the top and glancing over the address. “You stabbed too deeply.”
“Peter,” he said, realization in his tone. She nodded once. “I am sorry. I had to see who was the weakest link.”
“And it’s me,” she scoffed, briefly turning back to her work. But he was still there.
“It wasn’t by the end of the day,” he whispered. She turned back to him again, looking him over. He was looking at her in a way that was too intimate for her liking. He had memories of her in that particular way, she didn’t. It felt strange. She wondered for a moment if he was going to try something untoward. He didn’t, he simply smiled at her softly. “You did very well.”
“Not that I need your approval.”
“You don’t need anything. But sometimes, Sabine… you want it. And I think you’d do well to recognize that in yourself.” He squared his shoulders. “I approve of you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him as if trying to work him out in her mind; like maybe she thought that he was trying to manipulate her. He did a fine job of that the day before, and she had to admit to herself that if he was, it had worked a little. When he said those words, she felt relief wash over her. He approved of her. It might have been the equivalent of, ‘well done, soldier…’ but she still wanted to hear it. She gave him a curt nod. “I forgive you.”
“You understand that it was not personal.”
“I do.”
He nodded, and extended his hand. She shook it firmly, and he wandered back to his station, sitting at the desk, and looking over the document he’d opened with guarded eyes.
He glanced around the room to make sure that no one was looking, first. Then he proceeded to start making slight changes.
When he saw Klara’s reflection, he closed the document and turned to her, smiling warmly. “Hello, what can I help you with?”
She glanced at the computer, then him. “I thought that you’d like to see what we talked about,” she explained, and she gestured him over to look at her notes. He swiveled in his chair one way, then the other, and followed her with a smile.
***
Marielle dismissed Kiritani, noting how much he distrusted Vincent in the report.
She signed some papers on him as she looked over the interview, then glanced at the wall as if it would open and show Austin sitting at his desk, staring into the courtyard distantly.
Marielle drank some of the tepid coffee that was sitting on her desk and was silent for a few moments as she looked down at the fountain outside, thinking over the last few weeks.
Vincent had come home with her. They’d been living together for lack of a better situation, and they’d continued their passions. But despite the growing feelings that she loved him, that he knew her well, and took care of her, and the fact that their intimacy was deeper than she’d ever experienced with a man, she couldn’t help but feel a little disconnected from him. It was probably the fact that he wouldn’t just tell her the truth about everything. She was never sure why, but this seemed common with the French; secret keeping. She’d noted it herself when she was younger.
Marielle finished the coffee.
Her door opened, and in walked the current problem of her life… he was smartly dressed and filling her office with her favorite scent in the world; that frosty forest smell that charged shivers up her spine, and made the hairs on her arms and legs stand straight up as it reminded her of Christmastime, the soft glow of candles, cinnamon, and cranberries.
He looked spent, wasted. She knew that he wasn’t drunk, but if she didn’t know him, that would have been her first guess. Austin didn’t drink to get drunk; the other night had been mostly an act. He didn’t have any other addictions or vices… just that pesky sexual addiction that hovered over him like a raincloud.
He sat on the couch, not looking at her yet, and let out a long, hard sigh as if to announce his presence.
She ignored him, typing on her computer. What she was typing- he had no idea. She could have been writing the same sentence repeatedly for all that he knew to emphasize the fact that if he were going to sit there, she wasn’t going to be speaking first.
Fine, he deserved this. He’d break the silence. “I went out Sunday night,” he began. She sighed, feeling the weight of a confession coming on. “Went to the corner store.” That wasn’t what she had been expecting, and she looked up at him, finally. “I bought some chocolate ice cream, and butterscotch syrup. I went home, I ate it… I played on my piano, sang… and I went to bed.” He swallowed, and lifted his eyes to meet hers. She looked away, “I held that Queen of Hearts card in my hand, and I missed you every moment of it.” True. All true. She took a deep breath and continued to type. She was typing the same sentence repeatedly. He could tell now by the key strokes. A callous attempt to ignore him. He scoffed, “Wow, and they say I’m cold hearted,” he said under his breath. She lightly cleared her throat, and fanned herself for a moment. It was still ridiculously hot, and it never felt like the air in the building was working. “Why won’t you look at me?” He asked tenderly.
“You know why,” she replied, quickly.
“You’re afraid of me reading your mind,” he said aloud and he looked down, noticing for the first time that the carpet in this room was forest green, and putting his face into his hands. “This is killing me,” he whispered. “This is killing me.”
“What is?”
“All of it,” he growled.
“Be specific,” she ground out through clenched teeth.
He looked like there were ten things that he wanted to say, and even getting one out was going to be difficult. “That I’m sorry,” he breathed. True.
“For what?” She pressed. “Say what you’re sorry for,” she said as if speaking to a small child.
He didn’t falter, he deserved it. “For embarrassing you.” Her chest felt like it was opening up. “And betraying your trust.” He put his face into his hands again. This was real, and true shame. “And because I’m a dog… And I’m just gonna do it again… and again.” He looked at her with sad, pleading eyes.
Her compassion began to reveal itself, “You don’t have to, you know?”
“It’s not that I have to… It’s that I will,” he explained darkly. He swallowed. Then he met eyes with her, and they were intense, focused, apologetic, and set. “I’m gonna to do it right now,” he said, quickly, then standing, and coming for her.
She jerked back and stood against the wall. He stopped short, the desk between them. He positioned himself there, keeping his eyes locked with hers. “Tell me this is done,” he dared, unblinking, dryness stinging.
“It is,” she insisted, tightly. -No, it’s not.
He let out a frustrated, but semi- relieved sigh, and briefly closed his eyes. Then he retrained them on hers again. She looked so scared. He didn’t care; he had to know. “Tell me that you don’t want to be in my arms right now.”
“I don’t…” She was shaking. -I want nothing more. She closed her eyes, and turned her head, her thoughts betraying her every step of the way.
“Don’t you look away,” he whispered. She tensed her jaw. “Don’t you look away,” he demanded. She glanced back at him, tears welling and their eyes locked again. He moved around the desk and took another step toward her. “You look me in the eye, and tell me you’re done, and I’ll leave you alone.”
She looked down at his left hand. It was shaking violently.
Oh, God… he was still going without. “I-…” She looked away, again but he could still hear it. -I don’t want to be done with you.
He tucked his lips in for a moment, a pained expression crossing his face. “You didn’t have to be looking at me for that one.” He said, astonished. She closed her eyes, betrayed by her own stupid mind; her face contorting in anguish. “I di- didn’t expect this- any of it.” He made an indignant face. “I don’t know what to do now…” She put a palm over her gaze, hiding. “Stop hiding from me,” he whispered, gently. He remained a few steps away. She dropped her hand and looked at him; unable to refuse, drawn in, conquered. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to steel herself. He didn’t even look, he just remained on her emotion filled green orbs. “Tell me you h-hate me. I want to feel that knife one last time.” She winced and her face contorted in agony, as she slowly hung her head, unable to speak. He nodded. “Okay,” he murmured, glancing around the room as if he was uncertain where he was, and how to go about escaping. Then his gaze came back to hers. “Your mouth says one thing, and your mind says another.” He swallowed. Then his expression darkened. “Which makes you a liar… and we promised not to lie to each other,” he whispered, seething. A pause, “which do you want me to obey right now?” Her knees weakened at this question. “Your words,” her heart pounded, her blood was rushing, “or your real desires…?”
“My lips, Austin.”
He smirked, ironically…knowingly. Lips… he shook his head, biting his bottom lip; he wanted that kiss so badly. Lips… his name… He wanted to tell her to knock it off. Stop giving yourself away.
“We have a problem,” he said, shakily. “We can’t lie to each other anymore,” he added darkly. He stood back, tall.
“We never could,” she replied, guardedly, her hand at her heart.
He was shaking his head. “No, but… we could insist with our mouths.” He ran his hands over his hair, and kept them there for a moment, looking her over longingly. “What do you want to do?”
“Nothing. We’ll just continue to avoid each other.” Then the knife went in deep, and slowly twisted. Her voice came through in a whisper, and phased in and out continually, like she was trying to stop it, but couldn’t. –I want you to take me against you, so I can feel every… part of you. I want to feel your teeth again, and your hair and mouth. I want you to take me back to your place, and finish what you started because I can’t get it out of my mind, and every waking moment that I’m not with Vincent is sheer torment.
He closed his eyes, the world feeling like it had spun around twice in the last two minutes. That was enough to drive any man insane; and he was about to go under.
He took in a deep breath of air like he’d just come up from under water, and went white knuckled. “I’m going to leave,” he said tightly, and he was squeezing his fingers into a shaking fist. “Or I’m in danger of doing what you really want me to do.” He started to move, but backwards, as if he was afraid to break eye contact with her, praying that she’d tell him more. She’d shut her thoughts off now, too little, too late.
He turned, finally and completed the space across the room. He paused, leaning his forehead on the door. She could see the muscles in his back tense, and release as if he was trying to catch his breath… trying to convince himself not to whirl around, and throw her onto the couch, and take her. She wanted it. He wanted it. He squeezed his fist harder.
He pulled back, having regained a lot of his composure; his tone calmer. “You’re still my best friend. I mean that. I’m with you.” He put his hair behind his ears with both of his hands. “This is complicated, and no one else could possibly understand it. I get that. I also understand that you are loyal, and faithful, and that’s why you won’t just tell me to do those things. And that makes this so hard, because it only makes me want it all the more.” His chest rose and fell. There was a long, uncomfortable pause. War was taking place inside of him. “We’ll move on,” he said. She breathed a sigh of relief. “And I am sorry, because-” he turned, “I’m trying,” he said. “I’m trying,” he looked so weak. “But I don’t know how to be better. I’m trying. I’m just going to push you more… can you forgive me?” he asked. She swallowed thickly, looking him over, then nodding. “It’ll stop, sooner or later.” His eyes begged, “be patient with me?”
She nodded, Vincent’s words to not give up on him so easily sticking in her mind. “I will.”
He turned back to the door again, as if he were speaking to it and not her. “Play a game with me, later?”
She smirked, feeling a bit relieved and looking down between them. Quickly wiping tears away, she nodded. “What?”
He shook his head, uncertain, then flicked his gaze to the ceiling and back, “Downstairs… Chess,” he said. Then he left.
***
Sabine gave Liam a stern glance, and motioned with her head to follow her as they passed each other in the hall from the kitchen; a bottle of water in Sabine’s hand from the fridge. He did so, temporarily putting the chocolate chip cookie and milk in the back of his mind on hold.
She led him into the room they had been meeting in, and closed and locked the door.
Turning to him, she gave him a strong glare. “Vincent has too much control,” she began, quietly. “I’m not fond of it.”
Liam took a deep breath, dismissing some of the intensity in her eyes and disarming the rest with a fatherly gaze. But his words infuriated her again. “Do you mean that you’re embarrassed and enraged over being exposed, yesterday?”
She closed some of the gap between them with a few steps around the table. “Don’t give me crap, too.”
Liam stood, strong and tall. “But it is the truth, isn’t it, Sabine?”
Sabine glanced away silently, rage brimming just below the surface. She took a sip of water, swallowing quickly. “He’s doing something.” She said distantly. “I don’t know what. He’s keeping things from us.”
“Of course, he is,” Liam growled, gruffly. “It’s in his nature. I’m also more informed of the situation than you think that I am.”
Sabine stepped closer to him, challenging. “What does that mean?”
“It means… let me handle it.”
She looked away, frustrated; needing more answers. “And Austin Rancor?” Sabine hissed.
“What’s your problem with him?”
“Everything!” Sabine barked.
Liam shook his head, “Austin is a tool, Sabine. Ignore him.”
“He’s so much more than that,” she hissed, turning away.
“I know what he is!” Liam cried. “I was informed of exactly who and what he is when he came here and that clearance was only given to me! The fact that you’re questioning me on it shows me how right Vincent is about some of this. Let it alone!”
Sabine glared at him, her eyes full of a mixture of anger, frustration, and some indignance. “I thought that we were a team.” She whispered.
“Listen to me, and listen to me well… we are a team, and I care about you a lot more than I let on. I have been more than willing to give you a period that I felt was appropriate for your grief-” he lifted a hand out toward her when she started to protest, “-and let me be clear, I agree that no period of time is appropriate for grief. Remember who you’re speaking with, Sabine… Me. I lost my family, too.” He shook his head, and glanced down. “But there is an appropriate mourning period before you should be able to function in your given position again. I understand that this is tricky, too. But after a few years, I expected a little more from you.” She looked down, shamefully. “We’re moving on five years plus, now and in no way, shape or form do I expect you to be perfect, or okay- but we have to be honest about what we started,” he lifted both hands and started putting the pointer on his right to each of his fingers on his left as if counting things off, “what we expected from you, where you’re at, and what you are capable of doing.”
“And you think Vincent knows what he’s doing?”
“Vincent knows who the enemy is right now!” He shook his head. “I always thought it was Kingdom… but I think he’s right. I think the enemy is these others… these twins. They’re always going to be coming after us, and once we’re done with this group that Cory’s leading? I have a feeling that we’re on to the next group, and so on until the end of time.”
Sabine looked mortified as this statement seemed to sink in. “Do you- do you really think that’s what’s going to happen?”
Liam took in a big gulp of air, his chest moving like a mountain and falling back down. “Yes,” he said darkly. “You don’t know this, but Vincent and I have had a few conversations outside of what everyone else knows.”
Her expression flashed to his. “And?”
“It’s complicated.” He turned going to the window, and looking out at the clear blue sky. “There are many earths… many,-” he stroked his beard, “-possibly an endless amount. He’s been to several of them after he left his world.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t that clear?” Liam asked, looking down. Then looking over his left shoulder at her.
Realization crossed her expression. “He was looking for her. I mean the right her.”
Liam nodded. “He didn’t know that he was opening up portals that would create a domino effect.”
“What are you telling me?” She asked, forebodingly. “That Vincent destroyed the space time continuum to find his dead wife?”
Liam turned back to her from the window with his hands behind his back. “That’s the gist of it.”
“And we’re not blowing his head off?” She gesticulated in the air for a moment.
“He’s the closest thing we have to knowing how to stop it.”
“And how do you know that he’s being truthful-” she closed more of the gap between them, “-about any of it?”
Liam took in another deep pull of air, his blue eyes stinging with tears that never fully came. “When a man is in pain over the loss of someone he loves… you know it.” He looked back to her. “He didn’t know what he was doing. Only that he wanted his wife again.”
“So…” She lifted a hand and flicked it dismissively, “he’s just blameless, then?”
Liam sat at one of the chairs and let out a long, heavy sigh. “He’s not. And he shouldn’t be seen that way. But who in this building hasn’t done horrible things for one reason or another? Much of it love?” Sabine looked away and sighed. She knew that he was right. “Vincent is our best chance at understanding our enemy… whether he lives or dies.”
“You think that Vincent is going to die?”
Liam shrugged, “I have no knowledge of any such plan… but what I know is that he’d die for Marielle if he had to.”
“You do understand that this Marielle is not his Marielle?”
Liam nodded and looked down. “That’s what makes it so sad. Vincent knows. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knows. He knows a lot of other things, too.” She cocked her head at him, inquisitorially. “But again… it’s understandable. Wouldn’t you take the opportunity to see Peter again? Even if he had no memory of you, and he wasn’t exactly your Peter?”
She felt her eyes water. “Maybe.” She said, flatly. He narrowed his eyes at her, that father figure coming out. “Okay, yes.”
He nodded. “He’s living in a dream. He doesn’t want to wake up… and he knows that he screwed up. I think the universe has maybe punished him enough for what he did for love. Don’t you?”
“He’s…keeping secrets from us.” She replied tightly.
“I don’t doubt it.”
Sabine said nothing…paused, turned on her heels, and left, slamming the door behind her.
***
Austin made his move, then stared at the board, considering his next with his pointer fingers under his chin.
“Tell me something about all of this that I don’t know,” Marielle said, taking a sip of the lemonade that she’d grabbed from the fridge before she’d met Austin for their game near the training rooms.
He hmmmm’d. Then lifted a finger as if it hit him. “The night that I took you to the opera could have been really dangerous.” She narrowed her eyes at him, inquisitively. He leaned in, looking around to make sure that they were alone. Then he willed her to look at him so he didn’t have to say the next bit out loud. She did. -I was packing heat. We got wind that the man that I was there to watch; he might have been going there to assassinate someone. If he tried, I was supposed to take him out.
She leaned in, shocked, interested. -Are you kidding me?
-No. True.
-Who was he there to kill?
-I don’t know, exactly, but it was someone in the balcony to our left. Some political figure from Europe… He drummed his lip for a moment, incredulous. -God, I can’t believe we’re doing this; talking with our minds, I mean… He looked her over, longingly. -And you are so beautiful it hurts…
She shuddered in a good way, drawing her left shoulder up a little, guardedly, -Austin…
-Austin! He lightly winked at her.
-Don’t mock me.
He leaned in just a little. -Be honest. You… love when I do that.
She flushed. -Okay… I do. She smiled. -So, you put me in danger to do your job?
-Nothing would have happened to you. I’d die first. Or you’d join me and we’d do it together. He leaned forward and moved one of the chess pieces, then he laced his fingers on his chest, his thumbs tapping his collarbone. Maybe trying to remind her of the other night and where he’d bitten her multiple times. She couldn’t exactly tell if it was subconscious on his behalf, or hers… She thought it was ironic that reading someone’s mind didn’t necessarily mean that you knew what they were thinking.
“What about you?” He asked. “Why don’t you tell me something about all of this that I don’t know?”
She winced a little, “I have no idea what you don’t know, Austin.”
He shrugged his left shoulder, “Fine, tell me something that I don’t know about you.”
“I was a stripper in college.” He swallowed hard, then narrowed his eyes at her exaggeratedly. She chuckled, “No, I’m just messing with you.”
“You are so cruel,” he whimpered.
She flicked a brow and shrugged her left shoulder. “No, but I was a dancer, though.”
“Dance? Like… ballet, or-?”
She nodded, “Well, ballet was included, but I took modern dance, and general, and…”
“That’s why you look so good on the dancefloor.”
Her cheeks reddened as she remembered that he had been watching her that night. She had danced with quite a bit of reckless abandon. “Oh, that’s just silliness,” she chuckled, a hand over her heart. She waved the other one dismissively.
He made a move with a chess piece. “It might be silliness but you still look good doing it. Better than everyone else.” She fingered her collarbone, but dropped her hand quickly thinking that she might be doing this subconsciously to tell him to bite her again. He definitely noticed, and was definitely thinking about it. “Will you dance for me, someday?”
She cleared her throat, her heart pounding. “Dance for you? I’ve already danced with you.”
“For me,” he repeated. –Say, on our wedding night?
Her eyes widened at him in horror, and he looked just as horrified, although he was doing a better job of keeping his wits about him. “I’m sorry.” he said confused, and he pinched his lips with the palm of his hand. “I don’t know where that came from.”
She trembled as she put a hand over her mouth. -Oh, Austin, this is so weird…
He scratched the back of his head, and shifted, uncomfortably, -We could have so much fun with this, though.
She leaned back, incredulous. -Like propose marriage?
-I didn’t propose marriage, Marielle. I had a weird, random thought.
-That’s why this is dangerous. You understand what happened earlier? Random thoughts.
-It wasn’t dangerous before this? And what you had earlier wasn’t intrusive thoughts. It was what you wanted me to do, you’re just deflecting.
She nodded; he had a point. -I guess it was dangerous. And whether it’s what I wanted or not, it was still intrusive thoughts.
He leaned back, spreading his knees a little. His jaw tensed, as he felt grateful for the table between them. -Why are we doing this to each other?
-Why are you a sexual addict?
He squared his shoulders. -It’s something that I can’t seem to stop. No matter how bad it is for me.
She swallowed and looked down, unable to stop how she replied when she looked back at him. -Yeah… I have something like that, too.
He closed his eyes, his heart pounding. “You know that I like where this is going, right?” He made another move on the board.
She nodded, drinking the last of her lemonade. “Of course,” she replied knowingly.
He leaned in a bit, confidently. “You are so conflicted, aren’t you?”
She shifted, uncomfortably. “I think that’s pretty obvious. But I’m still mad at you… and I know that you are not good for me, as I just stated.”
There was a pause. He pinched his lips with his palm again, and looked over the board. “I love playing games with you,” he whispered, and his eyes flicked up to hers. -I want to do all kinds of things with you. Did you know that you’re the first person that I’ve ever wanted to play with? I always want to play with you.
–That I know.
-No, I mean… games. This. Chess, cards, bowling, tickling. I want to play. I never played as a child. His eyes were distant.
-Why?
He finally looked away, breaking contact, and signaling the end of his desire to speak further on the issue. He moved one of the pieces, and glanced back up at her; her move.
She looked over the board and pieces and thought for a moment. Then she willed him to look at her, again, wanting the rest of the story. If he was going to push her, she was going to push him right back just as hard.
-You won’t lie to me, but you won’t tell me certain things. Is that not a form of lying?
-No. It’s just me refusing to talk about it. He replied tightly.
-Will you ever tell me?
He coughed, lightly in his throat. -I hardly tell myself.
-But I’m your best friend. What are you scared of?
-Everything.
-Austin… Tell me?
His eyes dared her. -If you’re going to push, I’m going to push, and you won’t like that.
She raised an eyebrow at him. -Maybe I will.
-Don’t you tempt me.
She crossed her arms over her chest. -Try me.
-Okay… Then, tell me why you resist me.
-No…
He lifted an open hand and dropped it. Then he leaned into it. –Tell me why.
-No.
-I told you I’d push you back and you dared me to. You don’t get to change your mind, now. Tell me. You’re not saying it with your lips, just tell me. Tell me and I’ll tell you what you want to know.
She broke their radio silence, then. “Because I’m not just like you, Austin! I can’t just let someone go because…-” her voice trailed off, something dark lingering after where she stopped speaking. -he’s a liar.
He grabbed his hair in frustration, dragging his hands to the back of his head. “You know! You know that Vincent’s not right!”
“Neither are you!” She jumped onto his statement like lightning.
He looked at her darkly. “Neither am I?” He asked, sinisterly. Then he whispered it, “Neither am I…” He drummed the tabletop for a moment. “I told you everything,” he explained. “What are you calling me out on now?” His tone was confused.
She broke away from the table, turning to walk away.
He was immediately after her, catching her wrist, and whirled leaning his back against the wall, and pulling her taut against him. She jerked but he held tightly, keeping her. She could feel every part of him. But instead of doing what she suspected he might, he held her, pressing her cheek against his heart, which was pounding wildly. “Marielle,” he breathed, begging.
“Control yourself,” she whispered, shaking. That icy scent that brought pine trees and holidays tickling her nose, and making her want to stay there.
“Control myself?” He chuckled gently, “Do you know how much I’m controlling myself right now? And how much I have been for the last several hours?” he growled, hotly. “I can control my actions… I can’t control my thoughts.”
“Well, learn.”
He shook his head. “Can you?” he asked tenderly, tipping her chin up to look at him. She glanced away. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… I said it in your office. I’m just going to keep pushing for a while. I’m sorry. I want to learn how to be better, but I know what I am, and part of me wants to be that.”
“The other part?” She pressed.
“A good man.”
She pulled back, shaking her head. “I’m done,” she whispered, keeping her eyes on the ground. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Please don’t walk away,” he begged. “Please? I’m with you.”
“I have to. There’s no point to this. To any of it.”
He took hold of the sides of her face, gently; pleading. “Please, Marielle, I just want to be with you, if all that means is friends, then that’s okay for now. Please let me be your friend. I,-” whatever he was going to say, he stopped himself, and he apparently stopped himself from thinking it as well because there was nothing.
She shook her head. “This is too much.” She pulled back from him, and stood straight and tall. “I’m drawing a line.” His eyes showed her sheer brokenness. He was a strawman, and he’d just cracked in half while she was striking a match. “No, don’t you do that. You know what you are, I know what you are… And I’m no longer entertaining this.”
“Please don’t separate us,” he pleaded.
“Separate…” She looked like she thought that he was crazy, “We’ve never been together.”
His tone became deeply serious, then. “Marielle, we are more together than anyone has ever been in existence.” He left that hanging in the air for a moment. “You can move through me… we can talk with our minds.”
She closed her eyes. “Not anymore.”
He put a hand over his face in despair, his jaw tightening. Time to make a more crucial decision. Let her go. She needs it. Maybe I do, too. It’ll be a good reminder of what a screw up I am every day. He dropped his hand, and looked off distantly. “Okay.” She didn’t move. He swallowed hard, “Go,” he whispered, briefly gesturing to the stairs with his eyes.
She still didn’t move. Maybe she was trying to figure out how to fill the silence. Maybe she was fighting as hard as he was. It didn’t matter, she’d stated where she was at, and that was final for now.
Eventually, she whispered, “I’m sorry.” And walked towards the stairs that led up.
He looked back at the board. The game wasn’t done.
He leaned his temple on the wall. That you’re going to die alone… -her voice in his head. He covered his eyes with both palms, and pushed in, wanting to tear his skin off, it ached so badly.
What was the point, now? What did it matter if she didn’t want him? And why did he care so much? It was maddening; a slowly twisting screw straight into the side of his brain. She does want me… she does. Why won’t she just tell me? Why won’t she just give in? He bit back the other thoughts; they were too dark. She wants Vincent… A tear slowly moved down his right cheek. “Why do I care so much?” Not only did his own voice scare him, it was loud and booming; almost unrecognizable to him. He hugged himself around his middle.
‘Are you sure you don’t want your crown?’
“Mother, leave me alone.”
‘We can always re-crown you, pleasure god. Anytime…’
He felt bile in his throat, and closed his eyes. Despite a better night’s sleep the night before, he was still exhausted. “I don’t want to talk to you. I’ve grown out of your influence.”
‘You really think that’s possible?’ her voice became darker, ‘I’m yours. You’re mine.’
“Shut up.”
‘You know how to stop the feeling of falling inside right now. Go find a woman. You’re nothing without it.’
He stopped talking to her. He wanted it… Oh, God, how he wanted it. The anxiety was starting in his chest again. He put a hand there, feeling his heart pound. Why did he care? Why did he care so much? He couldn’t find a reason. He put a fist to the wall. Why does this hurt so much?
Moving quickly, he made his way upstairs, to his office after glancing at her door, and shut himself in.
But once he was on the couch, weird images started to move in front of his eyes.
It didn’t take him long to realize that he’d fallen asleep and was dreaming, but it was a subconscious thought, not a clear thought; the kind of thought that merely suggested to the back of your brain that something was not quite right and as a result, nothing could be real.
Marielle was laying stretched out on his bed in a billowing, layered, red historical romance dress with plunging cleavage. She was staring into space? In a trance? He couldn’t tell. Her lips were red, parted and so, so tempting.
His first thought was to put a finger between them. He did so, and his body was flooded with intense need when his fingerprint brushed her warm, wet tongue.
He leaned over her, wanting that kiss that he so desired. Instead… his teeth began to grow… his fangs. Longer, and gleaming white and before he had any say or understanding, he dipped, and bit her just under the left side of her chin. He could feel his fangs break her skin… vampire…villain… snake… He drank, pushing his teeth deeper into her… just a little more. Just a little more… He needed it. He had to satisfy himself on her, and in this moment, he didn’t care about the cost. He pulled back, watching the two beautiful rivulets of brilliant glimmering red run down her neck. She didn’t move. What had he done?
His heart began to pound violently. Was she dead? She was, wasn’t she?
Everything was dripping bright red. It was everywhere…commanding him.
It became curtains, flowing before his eyes until everything was red.
The red pulled back a little, and a vaguely familiar face appeared. A man, mid-forties, gray hair, hardened jaw… He was standing to Austin’s left in his childhood living room in Italy, putting his jacket back on.
There was a gun inside that jacket, and a badge that he recognized. Then an intense whisper split the silence; concerned, and helpful. “Hey, kid… do you want to get out of here?” He looked at the man, dazed, and confused. This man had just come from his mother’s room. He knew what she did in there. He’d seen it. “Austin.” The whisper said.
“Austin.” another voice, distant, female.
“Austin.” He dragged a shaking hand down his face and looked up into Marielle’s face. He hadn’t expected to see her again for a while.
She was staring down at him with concerned eyes. He’d been crying, she could see the dried streaks glisten on his face. He sat up, confused. It was dark outside. How long had he been out cold? He met eyes with her…
–So much red. There’s so much red.
“What?” She asked, glancing around. He’d just woken up; he could have been referring to his photos on the wall. Or maybe a lingering dream?
More awake, he looked around and shook his head. “What is it?”
“Vincent wants us downstairs.” She said, and she stood and left him alone again…in the dark.