Page 27 of Wicked Dove
“They’renotmy family,” I reply, hating the fact that I’m telling him anything at all, but it seems I can’t help myself.
To my surprise, he nods as though he understands what I mean. “Two days ago, I was living my life. Two days ago, I wasn’t a scythe, a danger to some messed-up society, or under the order of the goddamn Sanctum. None of this makes any sense. On top of all that, I’m being punished for being something I don’t even understand. I don’t even know what a fucking scythe is,” I splutter, my hands moving animatedly around me as I get the weight of this new reality off my chest.
He looks at me with hooded eyes as he assesses me in a way I wish he wouldn’t. “But you know what it’s like to kill someone.”
My chest aches, my vulnerability quickly shielded by my defenses as I glare at him. “You’re one to talk. I was protecting my friend. I charged at a madman with a gun, and when it went off, it was aimed at him. That’s the error I’ve made. How about we talk about you killing an eighteen-year-old girl?” I snap back. As the words leave my lips, I quickly realize antagonizing him probably isn’t my best bet. Not when we’re alone. I’m not sure if it’s a shock or not that he ignores me. “That’s what I thought,” I grind out, completely contradicting myself. I’m going to end up dead because of him at this rate.
“You don’t know shit,” he retorts, hands balled at his sides as he scowls at me.
“I know you don’t have control over me. I don’t care what they said in there; none of it matters,” I jibe back, clearly uncaring of the danger I’m in. My stubbornness will assuredly be my downfall.
“You’ll do as I say, so we both stay alive,” he growls, taking a step toward me with his finger aimed in my direction.
“I thought you were hoping death would come for you?” My words hang in the air as he comes to a stop in front of me. Our breaths echo around the small space as he shakes his head.
“It seems the grim reaper has other plans for me.”
Why is he so goddamn accepting of all of this? It’s frustrating as hell. Wiping my hand down my face, I huff a sigh. “I need someone to stop this thing so I can go back in there and explain that I want to go home.”
“When are you going to get it into your head that there is no going home from here?” he pushes back, and I shake my head as I stand tall, refusing to show any weakness.
“Walker will come looking for me.” It’s a warning and a threat, I don’t care how he takes it.
“Is that your boyfriend?” he asks, tilting his head at me, and I scoff.
“That’s none of your business.”
“My dick was inside of you hours ago, I think it is my business,” he insists, and I snicker.
“I’m highly regretting that right now.”
He leans closer so we’re chest to chest. “You and me both,” he snaps as our shoulders rise and fall in sync with one another.
I can’t breathe again, only this time it’s because of his proximity. His spicy scent is intoxicating. I’m ready to shove him back a step when he does it for me, putting a few feet between us as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
When his eyes find mine again, my chest tightens. “Give up on whatever fairytale you think is coming. The mortal world and the existence of supernaturals don’t co-exist. There’s a reason you don’t know a thing about us. He’s never going to know where to look for you.”
As if on cue, a ping rings through the air and the door, now to my left, opens. He doesn’t hang around; he passes through the opening immediately, leaving me no choice but to follow him.
The second I step outside into the crisp air, I instantly regret it. Spinning on the spot, I turn back toward the door, only to find it gone.
Just… gone.
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I try to take a steadying breath, but it’s pointless because the moment I dare to turn around again, I feel the same rush of panic. Kael hasn’t taken a single step, he’s staring at the looming gothic building ahead of me. It’s almost contentment that flashes in his eyes. How?
The jagged silhouette of the black and gray building ahead cuts through the bleak sky with an overwhelming sense of pain and despair. The soot-darkened stones are streaked with age and invisible scars that I can feel in the air. Pointed arches, disfigured statues, and wrought-iron balconies scatter the masterpiece that screams of torture and shattered souls.
It’s cold, sharp, and breathless.
There’s not a drop of greenery surrounding it. The cobbled stone walkways that run around it are as aged as the turrets and peaks.
“This is The Vale,” I breathe, my fingers curling into my flimsy t-shirt as I try to hold back the chatter of my teeth.
“No, this is the Institute, The Vale is on the other side,” Kael explains, pushing his hair back off his forehead as he tilts his face at the sky.
“I don’t like it,” I mutter, and he shrugs.
“It doesn’t matter if you do or don’t,” he states, taking off down the winding pathway. “Let’s go,” he commands, and I shake my head even though he’s not looking in my direction.
