Page 57 of House of Darkness
Chapter 28
ROMAN
There was something soothing about the meticulous care Abena, the Greenery shopkeeper, lavished on her plants. She tended to each one with the tenderness of a loving mother, timing the watering precisely and trimming dead leaves with delicate precision. Her focus was entirely on her work, allowing me to observe this intimate routine undetected.
I hesitated at the threshold, even though the faint scent of lilies that once lingered would have long since vanished by now. It seemed absurd to still be haunted by it, but the fear remained. It didn't stop me from standing outside, watching like a cursed specter of the night.
Three days had passed since I had laid my heart bare, only to have it crushed between her beautiful fingers. The ache in my chest was relentless, masked by copious amounts of wyne but never fully gone. I raised the green-tinted bottle to my lips, letting the thick liquid cascade down my throat. The bitterness of the booze sliced through the stale taste of blood. I wasn’t drunk enough to numb the flavor, but that would change soon.
This was the place where I had realized just how hopelessly in love I was with her. I could still see those stunning blue eyes, brimming with joy and passion. I remembered the soft pink of her cheeks as Iflirted with her, the feeling of her dainty hands in mine. I would have knelt at her feet or burned the world down just to give her the ashes. But she wanted none of that, leaving me to pick up the shattered pieces.
I didn’t blame her. I was a monster, but damn it, I had prayed with every sinful piece of my heart that I could claim her light as my own. It felt like she had been ripped from the space I’d made for her in my soul, leaving only darkness behind. It reminded me of… I didn’t want to think about what it reminded me of. That’s why I drank. And drank. And drank.
The light of day was fading to the soft blue gray of twilight. Passersby huddled together, veering away from me. I didn’t blame them; it was wise to avoid me. The stars began to peek out from the periwinkle sky, signaling it was time for me to go indoors. I could no longer bear to look at the stars.
My bare feet were silent against the cobblestones as I wandered through narrow alleyways, winding like a spider’s web through the city. I had lost my shoes the first night and my shirt the second. I didn’t care to replace them. Whether it was the emptiness in my gut or the wyne, I didn’t care about much anymore.
I headed to the same place as the night before. Kicked out of the first bar, I found this new one more tolerant of my bullshit. I kept my wings tucked away; the last thing I needed was someone recognizing their tsar, slobbering drunk in a brawl bar. Fortunately, my appearance was a far cry from that of my sleek persona. My jawline was unshaven, and my hair was a pile of knots. I was smeared with dirt and grime from nights spent in the dark crusted underbelly of the city. The dark circles under my haunted eyes finished off the perfect disguise. No one would ever suspect I was their supreme ruler.
I knocked on the steel door, which opened a crack to reveal a greasy blond vampire. “You again?” he grunted. I nodded, and he opened thedoor wider.
The interior assaulted my senses. The stench of stale wyne mingled with blood and sweat. Aggressive chatter and blaring music pounded through my ears like a battering ram. Dingy tables were crammed together, and a cute brunette vampiress tended the long bar top. In the center was a massive sand pit, dug several feet into the floor and encircled by barbed wire.
Two vampires fought in the ring, bruised and bloodied. The sand was stained with the blood and sweat of their predecessors. Vampires came to places like this to unleash the savagery that polite society suppressed. We came here to tear each other apart.
I couldn’t wait.
I scrawled my fake name on the signup sheet next to the announcer, who was formally known as a referee but had no role in these fights. There were no rules; vampires could fight until they killed each other. So much for reverence for our immortal lives. I wouldn’t kill anyone—at least, I wouldn’t try to—but that didn’t mean I couldn’t beat someone up to avoid dealing with my problems.
The bartender leaned over the grimy countertop. She wore a tight leather dress that accentuated her curves, her face adorned with bold makeup. Sorin would have a field day with her. I could imagine his reaction if he saw me now. No—better to not think about that.
“You’re back again, handsome?” she asked, sliding a massive mug of sloshing red liquid toward me.
I grinned back, though the feeling didn’t extend beyond my lips. She was lovely, but nothing compared to my doll. Well, not mine. Never mine. I took a swig from the mug, savoring the numbness it brought. I tossed a bag of coins on the counter and told her to keep them coming. She called out something about not killing anybody. I didn’t really listen.
Soon enough, the larger male in the ring took down his opponent. A bell rang to mark the end of the fight. I had already finished my second pint and was on my third as I stood up, my body thrumming with anticipation. It was time to forget everything and do what I did best: destroy.
My opponent was a mountain of a man, perhaps even larger than me. The wounds from his previous fight were already healing, leaving only faint pink lines. He sized me up like a meal.
“Sure you want to do this, junior?”
I grinned back. His disdain for me was clear, but it wouldn’t last. Despite handicapping myself by refusing to use my power or wings, I’d destroy him.
“I’m positive.”
He shrugged, sweat glistening on his shoulders under the green lights above. I let him step toward me, and he landed a well-placed blow just above my cold, dead heart. I staggered back, and he laughed, his voice rough from years of abuse. My laugh cut him off.
“My turn.”
I darted across the ring faster than he could react and slammed him into the barbed wire until stale blood flowed from him. I punched him in the gut, drawing a hiss of pain from him, then let him push me back. The fight wouldn’t be much fun if it ended now.
He lumbered toward me. His movements were quick but not quick enough. I met him in the center of the ring, leaped into the air, and landed a well-placed punch to his jaw, following it with a kick to his chest. He hit the ground with a thunderous shudder.
I pounced on him like a cat. I glanced at his face beneath me and instantly wished I hadn’t. His jaw was square, with a hint of stubble, and his black hair was neatly cropped.
He looked like Leonidas—the man who had taken everything fromme, leaving only a broken shell behind. A roar-like scream sounded, and it may have been mine. I wouldn’t know because my mind had gone blank with rage. I pounded his face until blood pooled under my fists. A whistle might have sounded, but I didn’t stop. I gripped the sides of his head, ready to twist...
“You don’t want to do that,” a voice cut through the red haze. It was rough and accented—a voice I knew all too well.
