Page 105 of Dark Souls

PLEASE.

I NEED TO KNOW YOU ARE SAFE. TEXT BACK.

ILARIA?

THE SUN IS UP AND I AM LOSING MY DAMN MIND.

I exhaled to keep the bile from rising again as the images of him with that fucking witch replayed in my mind. I knew it was ridiculous for me to be upset and jealous over some girl he clearly had a relationship with before I was even born, but I couldn’t help it. And that made me as much of a hypocrite as my dad and brother because I’d stuck my tongue down Heathen’s throat just last night. Guilt tore through me.

Sorry, I fell asleep. I’m safe. Still dealing with family stuff. I’ll speak to you later.

I punched out the text quickly before I turned off my phone. I just needed a few hours to process. Why was I getting flashbacks of Luka’s past? I didn’t have that ability. Yes, I could read minds, but I couldn’t see into people’s pasts or futures. So what the hell was happening? Or was I really just dreaming crazy ass dreams and letting my imagination run wild with the little information I had?

“Stop breathing so loud!” Leif moaned, burying his head under his pillow. I ripped it off him and hit him with it.

“Get up! I’m going to need your help with something before you go back to Heroux.” I yanked at his arm and he fell out of the bed onto the floor, groaning and holding his bicep.

“I think you broke my arm!”

I rolled my eyes at his flair for dramatics. “Well, now we are even then for you sending a branch through mine. Come on, brother, you are going to make me a little truth serum and I will buy you a greasy kebab to feed that hangover before you go back to Heroux.”

“Add a strawberry milkshake and it’s a deal.”

He jumped up with a cheeky smile, hisbrokenarm long forgotten.

Broken Pieces

IgrowledwithfrustrationasI watched the sunset from the bedroom window painting the sky with orange and red hues. She hadn’t come back. I stared down at the phone in my grip, fighting the urge not to ring or text her again. God, I was a needy prick. I’d been fighting that urge all day since she replied to me this morning. She seemed off, but I’d given her space. I hoped it was just what she said: it was a family emergency, but my gut knew better. Something had happened. I should never have left her here alone. But what choice did I have? As soon as I realised her heat was over, I knew I had to return to The Pleasure Den and deal with the fallout before The Devil came to find me himself. Luckily, as soon as I’d stolen Ilaria away from the house, the male vampires snapped out of their lust-driven haze and being at a sex event helped them meet their sexual desires in other ways. So the night wasn’t a total fuck-up. However, my departure didn’t go unnoticed by one asshole. Wesley.

Of course, he had taken it upon himself to manipulate the situation to his own advantage. He’d ordered the bouncers to kill the four vampires that had started the fighting, even though they couldn’t have helped themselves with Ilaria’s mating scent, driving them wild. He’d then watched over the rest of the night and closed the event himself. When I returned to The Pleasure Den, I found the four vampires plus the ones I’d killed lined up on the living room floor with Wesley sitting in my fucking chair smoking a cigar. Waiting.

I was surprised he hadn’t snitched and contacted his uncle right away, but it seemed he was more conniving than I thought. He’d offered me a deal. The name of the female vampire member who went into her need, or he’d tell The Devil I killed seven members in a fit of jealousy over some female vampire pussy and stole her away to fuck her myself, leaving my responsibilities for the night. Not only would The Devil be furious that I made the club look bad over a single woman, but it would also put Ilaria, or in this case Raven, on his radar, which I had to avoid at all costs.

Wesley had overlooked one tiny flaw in his attempt to blackmail me, though. I was smarter than him. I’d already covered my tracks to keep Ilaria hidden. To guarantee everyone left happy and with no recollection of the night, I’d given Sarah, our resident witch, a hefty bonus before the event. She’d spiked all the drinks with a potion that would erase memories, leaving only a pleasant sense of satisfaction. That was the reason I had told Ilaria not to have a single drink. When I had thought of it, I couldn’t have known what would happen, but it was a precaution that helped me feel more comfortable with her being there.

I’d smirked, shrugged my shoulders and given him the name Raven Darmont. Told him I fucked her, and she would never be satisfied with another dick again. He’d seemed surprised that I’d given him that information so easily, but hid his shock. He stood up, did up his suit jacket, stubbed his cigar out on a dead body and left.

I’d watched him walk out of the house with a sick smile plastered on his face, clearly thinking he’d find her at the next event and make her his for the night, only to pause as soon as he reached his car. He’d turned back around, stared up at the house with utter confusion and looked around his surroundings. My smile widened when he climbed into his car and started typing into the sat nav to find out where the fuck he was.

As soon as he had sped away, his Lamborghini screeching across the stones, I opened the laptop I’d left behind and quickly sent The Devil the debrief email he always expected after an event with an attached picture of the seven bodies on the floor. Why were they dead? They tried to smuggle their own drugs into the event and deal them to the members behind our backs. Of course, he fucking bought it. A single response fired back.

Good catch. I’ll summon Heathen for clean up.

By the time I’d got back to the manor, Ilaria was gone. I was beside myself for the first hour, checking every room in the house and thinking only the worst; that the Devil had been here. He’d taken her. And then I remembered I had a phone now. As soon as I read her text, relief overwhelmed me, but then she didn’t reply. Hours went by with all my messages unread. By the time the sun rose and I found myself back in this prison, my sanity was unravelling again. This. This was why she shouldn’t be anywhere near me. Just by knowing of my existence, her life was in danger. And for twelve hours of the day, I couldn’t do a thing to protect her.

Ripping off my clothes, I headed into the bathroom to run a bath. Climbing into the tepid water, with Ilaria’s old phone in hand, I tried to figure out how to do more than just text and call on this device. All previous messages, photos and her phonebook from before her phone came into my possession had been wiped clean. I only had two numbers saved. Ilaria’s new number and Madeline Romano. With a little trial and error, I found the internet browser. I chewed my lip beneath one fang as I contemplated what to search for. Supernaturals barely had an online presence. Some had socials but apart from that, you’d find hardly anything about them. Out of habit, I typed in my sister’s name like I did every day on the laptop in the slim chance I’d find something but of course not a single thing appeared. I typed in Ilaria’s next and her social media came up, another habit I had become addicted to snooping on. I clicked on her page and shot up, splashing water over the edge of the bath, when I saw a new picture that had been posted just a few hours ago.

It was of her and another man. She had her arms wrapped around his neck from behind and pure, violent rage erupted within me. Who the fuck was he? Dead. That’s who. I quickly scrolled down to the caption:Good to have this wanker home, if only briefly.The man was tagged as @theleifone. I clicked on his profile and immediately relaxed. It was her brother. The warlock one. The one with Anderson blood. My jaw clenched at the thought of that name. Ilaria was related to that name by blood. My own fucking soulmate. I should hate her for it. But I couldn’t. And that angered me even more.

As I tossed the phone on the floor and submerged myself in the water, I stared up at the rippling reflection of the ceiling. I held my breath for as long as I could and then a little more. When the pressure to breathe became unbearable, I opened my mouth to scream silently. I broke through the water with desperation, gasping for a breath and balancing the back of my neck against the rim of the metal bathtub. I closed my eyes as that all too familiar itch to harm myself heightened with every beat of my messed up heart. The faces of my family flashed through my mind, but all I felt was numb to the pain. Even the last image of Hana screaming for me with tears rolling down her face as she was dragged away didn’t make me feel anything but self-loathing. If my parents could see me now, who I’d become, they’d be so disappointed.

Never surrender.

I opened my eyes, leaned over to grab my handmade scorched-wood knife from the sink and ran it across my arm without hesitation. The sting sparked the desired relief as blood mixed with the bath water. I watched as the red swirled and danced beneath the surface, mesmerised by its beauty. I did it again. And again. Until there were too many cuts to count. Punishing myself for every person I’d failed. Soon the water was completely red, and I was feeling dizzy. But I also felt better. The anger and numbness were gone. The relief was addictive. The only other instance my mind had ever experienced such freedom was when my dick was buried inside Ilaria, and my mind was consumed by her. She was my addiction, too. What if she never came back? What if seeing this place, seeing the darkness within me, was too much? What if she regretted our bonding? It was better she realised it now rather than later. I dropped my head back and stared at the ceiling. My ears were ringing, and black dots sparked across my vision. I blinked my eyes multiple times when I saw Ilaria’s face above me. So beautiful, like a fucking angel come to save me from hell. I smiled and closed my eyes, welcoming the darkness that finally pulled me under.

“Luka!” I screamed, grabbing him from under his arms and yanking him higher in the bathtub. My heart was in my throat when I saw all the fresh cuts across his arms and chest. Blood stained my clothes as the polluted bath water drenched the sleeves of my dress.

“Luka! Wake the fuck up!” I screamed as his eyes flickered beneath his eyelids. He was pale. Way too pale. He’d lost too much blood. Did he do this to himself?

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