My mind reeled as I looked down at the familiar spidery veins that marred his skin. Chest pounding, I made quick work of slipping him out of the shirt. My heart cracked every time he squirmed from the pain, and I had to stop myself from thinking of just how much pain this injury had already caused him.
The white fabric of his shirt was marred with my bloody handprints as I folded it to the right size.
“Ready?” I breathed, looking down at him.
With no small effort, he opened his eyes and stared at me; hiscerulean irises almost completely hidden from his blown pupils. He dipped his chin in acknowledgment. Taking a breath, I nodded in confirmation, then turned my focus back to his wound.
Gingerly, I placed the fabric over the wound. Then, shifting my weight, I placed one palm atop the other before slowly leaning my weight onto the wound.
Artton thrashed as he cried out in agony, and I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached. I didn’t move, not even when one of his hands wrapped around my upper arm, his eyes pleading for me to stop. I winced as his fingers dug in hard enough to leave marks, but I didn’t falter.
I silently counted to a hundred, every muscle straining as the seconds dragged. By the time I finished, the blood had slowed to a sluggish seep. It hadn’t stopped, but for now it was enough.
Releasing most of the pressure, I shifted back on my heels. Artton’s grip finally relented, and he dragged a finger down my arm.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
Looking down, I saw the bruises that had already begun to bloom.
I wiped my forehead with the back of my forearm, my chest heaving as I caught my breath and my thoughts.
I was tired. Emotionally exhausted. Angry. And over it. All of it. Suddenly, the weight of everything settled over me.
I knew then I’d never hated someone so much.
“Were you always a monster?” I whispered into the silence after a long moment.
“Excuse me?” Thaddeus said, like he’d heard me wrong.
“Spark, don’t,” Artton said, his eyes pleading with me.
Ignoring him, I looked over my shoulder at the king. “Were you always a monster?” I said, my voice still impossibly low.
his light brows knit together as he uncrossed his arms. “How could you possibly say that to me?” he asked, sounding genuinely hurt.
Slowly, I pressed my hands against my thighs, then rose.
My steps were soft as I closed the gap between me and the man I’d naively let into my life and my heart. Stopping a couple of paces away, I looked into his molten silver eyes that churned with emotion. I wondered then if devils feel emotion the same as the rest of us.
A second passed.
Then two.
Then three.
The sound of my hand striking his freshly shaven face rang out. And honestly, I thought I’d feel something more, but the stinging sensation of my palm far surpassed anything I felt in my heart. No. I was lost to numb fury as I faced the man that had stolen too much of me.
“Howdareyou act hurt after what you did?” I said, voice lethal.
His furrow deepened. “Because I injured him?”
I breathed in and then out as the words played in my mind again, and again, and again until I finally gave them life. “No,” I said slowly. “Because you murdered my parents.”
His eyes went wide. “I didn’t mur?—”
“Don’t you fucken lie to me, you piece of shit!” I roared, and the dam that had been keeping my emotions at bay shattered as I pushed him with both hands. He stumbled back a step, and I followed in his wake. “Don’t you dare pretend like you weren’t the one who signed their death warrants!”
Face hardening, he muttered, “Iknewit was Tarrin.”
