by Cindy Mezni
“At least I tried,” he said before sighing heavily.
I refrained myself from smiling in front of his oh-so-dramatic reaction.
“But, believe me, Majesty, you don’t know what you miss.”
“Xander . . .” I grumbled.
“I know, I know,” he said with his arms raised in the air. “I was only informing you, that’s all.”
“Duly noted. And now follow me. There’s still somebody you have to deal with.”
His expression changed, a sign that he was back to Reaper mode. He’d forgotten about our discussion in no time at all, his mind only focused on his future task.
“Who?”
“A deviant of the worst kind,” I answered without further explanation.
“And Venom? What do I do with her? What did she do to land up in this cell anyway?”
“You let her rot here without food until further notice.”
I took a deep breath as the irritation she inspired in me reappeared as I thought back on her behavior.
“And regarding the reasons of her staying here, let’s say she’s probably responsible for the attack of the Reserve.”
“What?”
I gave him a broad outline of the story: from the Släva who was a blood slave and undoubtedly a spy to all the information Venom had given to the vampires without knowing it, and her unauthorized trip outside New Hell which could have cost the clan dearly.
“And why didn’t you ask me to kill this bitch after all this?” he said in disbelief.
“She’ll serve as a distraction. If the High Instances or their Trackers show up, I shall give her to them so that they take it out on her. That will delay my execution and will allow me time to save my skin and that of the clan.”
Xander seemed furious, his blue eyes slightly shining.
“Good idea. Anyway it’d be a shame to kill her now. The idiot deserves to suffer for what she did.”
We agreed on this point. The Venom matter being closed, I signaled for him to follow me and we went to James’s cell. He was still stone-cold dead. If Venom hadn’t come back to life yet, it was certainly because Xander or Nolan had twisted her neck again when she’d woken up; James wouldn’t take much longer to regain consciousness.
“What did this one do?” he questioned me a bit curtly.
Obviously, he was still affected by Venom’s betrayal.
“The most unforgivable crime. He killed a Nëphyr to feed on him.”
“You’re joking, right?” Xander said, astonished, spinning around to face me.
“I wish I was, but no.”
Xander shook his head as if he was weary or tired of all this. I was in the same frame of mind.
“Drake needs to speed things up in finding a solution if we don’t want this problem to become common practice around here.”
I didn’t bother to answer. I hoped Drake was about to find a new source of supply soon, otherwise, Satan have mercy on us . . .
After a few minutes of a heavy silence, James began emitting some sort of growls. It was the signal for Xander to make an entrance.
“It’s your go, Reaper,” I said.
Without a word, he went into the cell. I shut the two of them inside. A measure to prevent James from trying to escape his sentence when he’d see the Reaper. I leaned against the wall opposite the cell and crossed my arms. Xander did the same while waiting for James to wake up. He soon came around. When he saw Xander—specifically the machete in his hand—and I, he reacted. His jaw changed, his eyes sparkled, and he darted toward Xander. The Reaper being in an apparently playful mood, he had fun with James, avoiding his attacks without countering them. Quickly tired of that, I manifested myself.
“Xander,” I said to call him to order.
“Sorry, buddy, but Her Majesty is fed up, so we’re going to get down to business.”
And when the Reaper said something, he really did it. In no time at all, it was over. He threw his machete down and caught James’ head between his hands and ripped it off. James’s body moved a little more before collapsing on the ground, lifeless. Xander watched me with a happy smile on his lips and his trophy in his hand.
“Do you want me to put it on a pike and take it up to your room? It’d make a lovely decoration, wouldn’t it?”
“Another try to invite yourself in my apartment and get in my bed, huh?” I said, jesting—even if I was certain he’d thought of it. “Just get rid of all this, Xander. And don’t forget to clean the depot of useless furniture on the first floor.”
“Your wish is my command, Majesty,” he said before doing his usual grotesque curtsy.
I left the basement, wanting to isolate myself in my apartment for the rest of the day. On the way back, I learned that Kayla—that was the name of James’ lover—was dead. Eaten away by sorrow or stupidity or both, she had provoked an irascible Nëphyr and had been killed. Poor fool. Her James didn’t deserve her to die for him. Nobody deserved that. I ordered somebody to let Xander know of this incident so he’d come retrieve her body. Even if fights to the death were prohibited outside of Shemyan, her murderer was simply in charge of cleaning this slaughter as he just had defended himself. This problem solved, I hit the road again while hoping to have no other worry or to see no other corpse on my path. I could only hope for Lucifer to take pity on me and this bloody day to finally end . . .
6
Confidences
I should have suspected that the rest of the day could only be the continuation of this series of upsetting and irritating mishaps. I realized it as soon as I opened the door of my bedroom. Nathanael was here. Of course . . .
“My dear Nathanael!” I exclaimed, as ironic as possible. “What a surprise to see you here!”
Ignoring his presence, I went toward my wardrobe to change since I was covered in blood. I very quickly chose a black, backless dress. I took off the red one I was wearing and threw it in the fireplace which was only used to burn my worn clothes. I spun around and saw that, without surprise, Nathanael was staring at my almost naked body. Not at all bothered, I slipped on my new clothing, my eyes riveted on his.
“You had something to tell me?” I asked him when his silence went on.
“No.”
Why did he invite himself here if he had no important information to pass on to me?
“My rules are clear,” I reminded him sharply. “You don’t consider me as your private property and you don’t come here just because you want to.”
“Apparently, you’re wrong. Everything isn’t clear since you’ve never mentioned this last condition,” he said serenely.
I took a deep breath to keep calm. I was tired of this. The day had been tough, and I didn’t want to get angry because of his behavior. Given my mood, it might end in a slaughter.
“Don’t be a smart-ass with me, Nathanael. You know me and you know that I don’t want you to behave as if I was your thing and that I wish for our relations to be limited to a physical language. You and I, we’re not Parinrä and we have no kind and long discussions. It’s just sexual. Nothing else.”
He looked at me with an unfathomable gaze.
“These aren’t the conditions I agreed to when we started this.”
Like Hell they aren’t! Of course they were the rules he’d accepted to submit himself to and I’d enacted them since the beginning of this—unfortunate—affair between us.
“That’s enough. This time, we’re done. Get out of here,” I said while gesturing to the door. “I’ll find somebody else, a male which will agree to fuck me without any complication.”
I was crude, but at least it was clear. I was tired of this ridiculous game. Of this complex relationship. I already had enough problems with the members of my clan, the human government, the High Instances and these damn blood drinkers who targeted us. I really didn’t need a lover who annoyed me every time we saw each other in addition to that. The sex might be great, but it wasn’t worth the effort—no pun intended.
It was a s
hame his personality and his obsession for me ruined everything because he undeniably was the best in Hell. His prominent muscles showed through his black shirt. His short and disheveled, golden hair was in harmony with his gray-blue look, his suntanned skin, his typically masculine features and his square jaw. His mysterious aura came to perfect the whole package, making you dying to discover what bad things he had in store for you. Lucifer, he even could inspire obscene thoughts to the most pious of saints. And if the eyes of said saint fell just below his belt, she’d damn her soul without hesitation just to see what these pants hid. I inwardly sighed at the thought of not enjoying that perfect specimen of a male again. Damn you, Nathanael . . .
“What happened?”
I came back to reality and realized he hadn’t moved an inch. He really had to be kidding me here.
“Are you deaf? Get out of here!” I said to him before adding, “What? Do you find me not clear enough once again?”
He didn’t leave. I was seething with anger. Satan hold me back or I was going to kill him!
“Tell me,” he whispered with his most affable voice.
I went to lie down on my bed in order to forget his presence since he wasn’t going away. I closed my eyes. I would have liked so much to sleep for a moment and awake later, Nathanael gone; unfortunately, I was absolutely not tired, physically speaking. If I’d still been human, I’d have been able to fall asleep. For a Nëphyr, to sleep without being completely worn out was impossible. And we could go several days without showing signs of tiredness. Sometimes, our condition really sucked.
“Tell me everything.”
The mattress sagged, meaning that Nathanael had joined me. His fingers touched my face lightly before putting back some strands of hair behind my ear. I stopped breathing for a brief moment but I didn’t push him away as I always did when he allowed himself these little attentions. His gestures reminded me of those he’d had with me in the past. When our King, Efflamm and our Queen, Mischa, were still alive. When I still had some semblance of humanity left, even though my monstrous and merciless part of myself kept growing, and Efflamm was giving Nathanael and I some missions. Back then, I had two personalities. A good one, appearing whenever I was with Efflamm, Mischa and Nathanael, and an other, devoid of any emotion, whenever I was with Ezekiel. He’d always wanted me to become a monster like him. He’d eventually succeeded when he’d massacred Efflamm and Mischa before he’d fled. At these thoughts, hatred overwhelmed me. I should have him killed after he’d committed those murders. I hadn’t done it. Shocked, I’d merely stared at the mangled bodies. Ezekiel, covered in blood, had taken a step toward me, his face and gaze unreadable. The arrival of two Nëphyr had made him give up what he’d wanted to do and run away. I didn’t know what he’d been about to do to me. Was he about to force me to follow him? To kill me because Efflamm had announced I would inherit the throne after his death? I didn’t know. On the other hand, I knew why Ezekiel had killed them. The announcement of the King had infuriated him so much that he’d made a slaughter because he’d always thought he’d inherit New Hell after Efflamm’s death. And I who’d promised myself a long time ago to kill him when I could, I had had an opportunity—and a new reason—to eliminate him and despite it, I’d done nothing. And I couldn’t stop blaming and hating myself for that.
“You’re thinking about him.”
Nathanael’s voice showed that he didn’t appreciate it one bit. I got him. We were talking about Ezekiel here. The traitor, his friend—if friendship could really mean something for our kind—who’d become his sworn enemy when he’d killed Efflamm. Nathanael had always considered our former King his mentor, in addition to being his creator. Hating Ezekiel like he did was understandable, as it was for him to react like this when he knew I was thinking of him. I was well placed to know that the links between a Nëphyr and his Creätoria were very strong. Much to my regret . . .
“What makes you say that?” I asked, curious to know how he’d guessed it.
“Your face turns hard when you think of him. And your lower lip trembles, as if at any time your teeth could change within the scope of your anger.”
“You must have played the voyeur many times to have noticed all those things.”
I didn’t even know I showed such signs of hatred when I had Ezekiel in mind. But it wasn’t very surprising. I despised him so much that this feeling had to show through.
“Several decades in company of certain people allows one to notice things about them.”
And the damn liar that he was dared to answer me with an impertinent smile. I wasn’t fooled. He wasn’t a good observer. Or at least, he wasn’t a good one with everybody; just with me.
For a moment, silence took over the room. But Nathanael put an end to this tranquility by reopening his mouth.
“So what happened today?”
“I don’t want to speak about that,” I said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Actually, I don’t want to speak at all.”
I didn’t expect the retort that followed.
“What do you want to do, then?” he asked suavely.
Out of the blue, his lips came to caress my throat in a delicious way. And all of a sudden, a nameless fury invaded me. Thanks to an almost painful rush of lucidity which struck me like a punch to the gut, I could think straight again. I grabbed him by the hair and pulled his mouth away from my skin.
“I’d like you to leave. That is what I want,” I said, firm.
Without undoing my grip on him, he came to position himself above me and I felt his body against mine. And it wasn’t the only thing I could feel. His cock was against me and I couldn’t miss what was going on down there.
“Well, I change my answer. What I want is for you to take your wriggling appendage away from me or I’ll deal with it . . .”
His look became more lustful, if it was possible.
“ . . .but not like you’d like me to,” I added so he’d understand the threat.
Doubt flashed in his pupils. But in the end, he stayed where he was. He obviously didn’t care that much about his cock . . .
“You can’t know how saddening it is for me to have to do that,” I said in an excessively dramatic tone.
Before he could react, I seized his cock through his jeans and clenched it with a mighty force. Nathanael emitted a furious roar while I squeezed it even more. His face was a mask of pure rage and pain. Even so, he endured it and didn’t move. He was sick. And I had to be a real sadist because I felt an unhealthy enjoyment to torture him this way. As if I gave the reins to my predator and that she was delighted to make Nathanael suffer. That was what told me that something was wrong, for sure. I felt pleasure in hurting others in many circumstances but not when it was kin—unless he’d really deserved it. And especially not Nathanael. I was behaving as if he was just another piece of flesh on legs I wanted to bleed to death. Maybe it was the obsessing hunger of the last few days that had turned me upside down. Anyway, I didn’t like it at all.
“Leave,” I said, Nathanael still not reacting.
“No,” he objected, breathless but determined.
The poor fool wouldn’t get out of this unscathed, but after all, it was he who forced me to act this way. I increased my pressure. He didn’t give up. I had to admit, he was no weakling. Just like Ezekiel.
“Damn it, Nathanael!” I shouted before releasing him and throwing him to the other end of the room.
Once again, I’d thought about this fucking monster and it was because of this idiot of Nathanael. I was okay with thinking of Ezekiel when I was conscious, but I didn’t want him to impose himself in my mind like he was a role model. It reminded me how important he remained to me even if I didn’t want him to be. How much he and Nathanael were alike in certain aspects and totally differed in others. It constantly reminded me I should have been capable of being with Nathanael or even with someone else, if my mind hadn’t been branded by Ezekiel.
But I couldn’t because nobody could be him. And he
re lay the problem. I was the problem.
As this vile realization dawned on me, I took the bedside lamp, tearing the plug out of the socket, and tossed it across the room. The lamp broke against the wall, near the place where Nathanael had been a second ago. He probably thought I aimed for him, considering his expression.
“What is your fucking problem?” he yelled with a rare annoyance—the proof being the fact that he was swearing, a thing he almost never did.
Myself. I only thought it, but didn’t voice it. My revelation had to remain secret. If he knew of it, he’d do everything to convince me he wasn’t like Ezekiel. The thing was, I was very aware of that. If he’d been Ezekiel, I’d have never fought him and his stupid desire to be my Parinrä with so much fervor because I’d have accepted anything coming from him, like the little submissive victim I’d always been with Ezekiel. I wished I could endure a thousand and one tortures instead of having such thoughts. Unfortunately, it was the atrocious truth. A cry of agony died on my lips, muffled in my throat. To know that my existence was still so directed by the monster who had used me and destroyed my human life, just like my Nëphyr’s life, literally killed me from the inside! Only I couldn’t change anything about it. Because Ezekiel was in my blood, in my body, in my head. He was everywhere!
As if somebody else commanded me or madness had taken over, I jumped up off the bed and attacked Nathanael. He didn’t move away and we crashed into the wall with a deafening sound. Several bricks fell on our heads. Out of my mind, I dug my nails into his forearm. He growled.
“What the Hell are you doing?” he said, wide-eyed.
I had no idea. I just couldn’t control myself anymore.
“I don’t—”
I couldn’t go further, my mouth refusing to formulate a sentence. I was rarely frightened, too used to the horrors that were a part of a Nëphyr’s life. Now was different. I didn’t know what was happening to me. It wasn’t the Furäm Sanguië because I’d eaten. Furthermore, it didn’t look like it since I was only feeling anger, not an overwhelming desire to kill. So what was this?
