She became my addiction instead.
“What?” I asked, furrowing my brow.
“Your name, it’s an old, old name that has passed through a lot of cultures. It likely derives from the GaelicNiall, which can mean, among other things, cloud. The Normans wrote it N-E-E-L, the same as the Old Frenchword forniello, a pitch-black mixture of alloys used in metalworking. Niello came from the Latinnigellus, meaning darkness. And so, as far as those Latin scribes were concerned, that’s what your name meant: darkness.” She folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall with one shoulder while I looked at her in surprise, not expecting the etymology lesson.
“That sounds right,” I murmured, putting my hand on the doorknob.
“You were born a Niall—a white cloud—and then some things happened and you became Neel, the darkness. But it’s your choice whether you continue being that way or try to return to your original form.” She held my gaze, studying me like I was a book of Greek mythology or a student struggling with a difficult test question.
I gave her a cheeky smile.
“Destiny’s funny, huh? My name, like me, has undergone a transformation, Ms. Martin. But unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do to become Niall again,” I said drily before opening the door to feel the bitter night air on my face.
Dark was my name; dark was my nature.
Should I have thanked fate for making me into a thing of darkness? For giving me such a pitiful existence? For making me a slave to sex, a lover of vice, a willing victim to every carnal sin, and allergic to all sentiment?
Did I need to thank fate for dropping this angel with the ocean eyes right in front of me at the wrong time, in the wrong place, and in the wrong way?
Did I say thanks for the nightmares that tortured me constantly?
For a sick whore using me as a child?
For forcing me to flee the one beautiful thing that had ever happened to me because I knew that if I connected to Tinkerbell, I would lose myself?
My life was a game of chess.
And this had been one more point to the fairy and another blow to me, the devil defeated…
16
The more I demanded that Selene get out of my head,
the more firmly entrenched she became.
Neil
I stood outside the library smoking, fully intending to go inside after one last drag. I put my cigarette out in the ashtray.
I’d been back in New York for a week at that point. I hadn’t heard from Babygirl since then. Since I fled Detroit in the middle of the night, leaving her with nothing but a crappy little note on her desk.
Even though some time had passed, our kiss was still engraved in my mind.
Her tongue had tried to communicate with mine in a language I didn’t understand that night.
When Selene kissed me, she plunged into the deep parts of me, the ones scarred by hatred, anger, and memories.
When she touched me, she tried to touch my soul. She tried to get under my skin and embed herself into me. She wanted to plant flowers in the arid, wasted, and frozen tundra of my heart. But that wouldn’t be as easy as she thought.
I immersed myself in my schoolwork to beat back the melancholy and drive it out of my head. I’d had my last exams a couple of weeks ago, but I was still on campus working on some independent projects.
“I knew I’d find you here. How’s it going?” Logan rested a hand on my shoulder, making me flinch.
“What the fuck! You trying to give me a heart attack or what?” I burst out irritably, and he rolled his eyes at me.
“Come on, I’m on pins and needles here,” he prompted, adjusting the shoulder strap of his messenger bag, which was packed with books.
“Passed.” I shrugged indifferently, and he gave me a proud smile.
