No.
She had to go and be the real Foretold One. The only one who can help me vanquish Morweena from the face of this realm. And to add insult to injury, Morweena wormed her way into the highest ranks of the Fae court. As sweet-faced Aurora Vaureghain, she married the Fae prince Noahlin, and just became fucking Queen once he received the throne from his father.
So now we’re against the Fae and the onpyrs. Just fucking great!
And we’re stuck together, Aimee and I. The prophecy makes sure of that. A prophecy I thought I understood, but now Akaoridamn if I know which way is up anymore.
I plop down on a velvet settee, a goblet of bloodwine dangling from my fingertips. I hate how it tastes, but it’s the only thing remotely taking the edge off.
She even ruined the taste of blood for me.
Aimee.
I had to have a taste of her essence, like the dumbass fool I am. She tasted of summer and rain, like joy and sublimity. My fangs start burning just at the thought of it.
The blood trickling down my chin startles me from my spiraling thoughts. How far gone am I that I didn’t even notice the pang of pain from biting my lip so hard?
My thumb glides over ripped skin, but I don’t bother myself to wipe the blood away. I enjoy suffering just a little too much.
I deserve it.
For moping around after the female who blindsided me. Willingly or unwillingly, it does not matter.
I should not be consumed with thoughts of her at any Akaoridamn moment.
Day or night, she’s in my head.
In my blood.
In my fucking soul.
My obsession knows no bounds. I hate her and love her with such vexatious intensity that I want to both burn down the realm for her and burn her with it.
I keep making a fool of myself because of her. Whenever she talks to Blaise or Nella, I strain my hypersensitive hearing to get a whisper of her voice. I dream of her constantly. More than once, I’ve ended up at her fucking door at ungodly hours. My shadows rage against my skin incessantly.
I have to pour all my focus into keeping my shadow self at bay. Like a frothing at the mouth rabid dog on a leash. To say my symbiotic relationship with my shadows is strained at the moment would be the understatement of the century.
And Blaise irks me to no end. He’s taken it upon himself to be her white knight in shining armor. Always by her side, lifting her spirits, helping her train, bad-mouthing me. I almost had an aneurysm earlier this evening while eavesdropping, hearing them moan and grunt in the training hall. They sounded like they were fucking, not fighting, and I was seconds away from barging in and breaking every bone in his idiotic body.
If he thinks he can swoop in and steal my female, he’s got an excruciatingly painful, centuries-long death coming for him.
If that is not obsession, I don’t know what is.
She’s nothing of mine.
Not anymore.
She probably never was. But I can’t make my soul take the fucking hint.
I drain the remaining bloodwine and reach for the decanter to pour some more, when a knock reverberates through the heavy silence, breaking me from my downward spiral into despair.
“Enter,” I say in a gruff voice. Who the hell is bothering me at this hour?
The door opens with a creak, and both Mattya and his brother Axel scurry inside. They’ve both climbed in ranks recently, after Marhus and so many other warriors perished in the stand-off with Morweena, and they’re still squeamish around me.
Mattya is trembling slightly as he gathers his wits to speak, while baby-faced Axel dons a stoic expression that hardens his boyish features. He was only seventeen when he was turned, and his gangly youth remains forever etched on his face.
“My King,” Mattya says with a shaky voice. “Blaise sent word for us to come to you directly with any significant news before he departed.”
