Page 137 of Dark Souls

“I can’t,” I whispered.

His eyes narrowed and hurt flashed across his features. “You can’t? Or you won’t?”

“Luka told me not to.”

His jaw tensed, and his whole body turned rigid beneath me. He moved his gaze past my shoulder and stared out into the maze. In a swift move that made me wince, he pulled out of me and lifted me to my feet, holding my arms to make sure I was stable.

“Someone is coming. Get to the chapel,” he ordered. I looked over my shoulder to see a figure approaching from one passageway out of the maze and fire burning at the tips of his fingers. I grabbed Heathen’s face in my hands and forced him to look at me.

“Don’t kill him. It will look suspicious if I am the only member who made it out alive.”

Heathen contemplated that and nodded curtly. He grabbed my face in his huge hands and kissed me briefly before pulling back. “Go. Now. There are spare clothes in the chapel. Take my mask to hide your hair.”

I blurred past him towards the half-demolished church, only to glance back when I reached the door to see Heathen was completely gone. I exhaled slowly, my body still trembling with the aftershocks of that sex, and pushed open the wooden door. Candles flickered in every corner, lighting the abandoned room with a warm glow. I raced towards the piles of clothing on one pew and pulled on a large hoodie that stopped around my thighs. I kept the hooded mask on to cover my hair but pulled the slit down to show my face so he wouldn’t expect me to take it off.

The door opened behind me and I turned to face the masked balaclava member. He lifted his hand and tugged off his mask, revealing a broad, cheeky grin.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Congratulations, Shorty, so we will be going halfsies on the winnings after all. Looks like I underestimated you,” the fae man admitted as he folded his arms over his chest. He had a torn shirt, cuts all up his arm, and a bleeding wolf bite on one calf muscle, but he didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

I turned to meet his gaze with a smirk as I replied, “People always do.”

Echoes Of Freedom

Iwokeupinthedirt, face down and completely naked. Clearly, the event ending had summoned Heathen back to the recesses of my mind before sunrise. Groaning, I lifted my head to stare at my surroundings and realised I was still in Frendal Gardens, and it must have been the early hours of the morning. Pulling myself up to a sitting position, I looked down at the dried blood and dirt on my torso and hands and felt the tightness of cuts across my back. What on Earth had Heathen done now?

Honest to God, the demon was a nutter at the best of times, but without me to reign him in over the years, he was a live fucking wire. I knew one of these days he’d do something so stupid at these events that it would get us both killed. Closing my eyes, I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I’d grown accustomed to waking from the black void of nothingness to find hours had passed, and I was often covered in blood that it didn’t even surprise me anymore. Whose blood? I had no fucking clue. Thank god I had no humanity or that shit would have eaten me up inside.

I knew Heathen would have a feast tonight. My attempts to keep him from Ilaria until she knew the truth had kept him locked away longer than usual. But the Murder Maze had always been his event. When he’d put the idea to The Devil years ago, The Devil was hesitant, thinking it wouldn’t be popular. I mean, who in their right mind would want to sign up to die? But to The Devil’s surprise, a small collective of the most deranged members really liked the idea. And so it’s been an annual event ever since. Normally, the turn-out is around fifty and only half survive.

As I attempted to stand on my feet, the strange realisation finally hit me. Why was I naked? Glancing at my dick, I wrapped my hand around it to feel it sticky with dried fucking cum. I gasped, falling back on my hands on the ground and staring, as panic sent my heart racing in my chest. I’d had sex. No. Heathen had. Here? At the Murder Maze?

A cold dread seeped into my bones, each breath a ragged gasp, as icy tendrils of terror coiled around my heart. I felt physically sick. I’d fucking cheated on Ilaria. How could he do this? He must have known she was our soulmate. She told him last week, so why… I paused my spiralling. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t have sex with anyone else. Which meant Ilaria must have come here.

An onslaught of rage and panic hit me as I stormed to my feet. Rage that she’d come when I told her not to and that Heathen had mated with her at this event, of all places. But also panic at not knowing if she was alright. Had he forced himself on her? I hoped he would never, but after what he said to her last week, I wasn’t so sure he could control himself around her anymore. Especially knowing I’d been fucking her for weeks.

This was one of the most dangerous events we held and even though I knew Heathen wouldn’t have let anything happen to her, I still wouldn’t calm down until I saw she was safe with my own eyes.

I sped towards the chapel and threw the door open to find it empty. The chest of winnings was open and all the cash was gone. I rubbed my hand down my face with frustration at not knowing what the fuck happened.

Grabbing some spare clothes that we always left out for the winners because they’d usually end up bloodied and a mess, I tugged on a pair of joggers and a T-shirt. Desperate to see Ilaria, I quickly raced through the maze to check whether Heathen had disposed of any bodies that might not have made it out alive. I suddenly came across a flash of silver that stood out on the brown ground. I picked it up, recognising it immediately. Flipping it over, I stared at the initials engraved on the knife’s handle. I.R.B.

I squeezed the blade in my palm, drawing blood as I swore loudly.Fuck’s sake.Why is she so stubborn?!Climbing on my motorbike and speeding back towards the Knowlton manor, it took me nearly two hours to get there, and by the time I pulled up outside, cutting the engine, the sun was peeking over the clifftop.

I felt the tug on my skin, forcing me back to the house as the sun’s rays appeared, and I zoomed up the steps and barrelled through the door.

“Ilaria!”

Silence. My heart pounded.

“Ilaria!” I poked my head around the library door and took in the mess. The desk was flipped, books were destroyed, and someone left my laptop open on the coffee table. Panic outweighed my fury that someone else might have been here. That she might have been in danger.

“Ilaria!” I yelled again, more desperately than before, as I stormed through the ground floor of the house and froze in the doorway of the kitchen.

There she was. Sitting on a bar stool in a hoodie and nothing else. Mud and brambles matted her messy hair, and scratches and cuts covered her legs. An open bottle of vodka was on the kitchen island in front of her with two glasses. One was empty and the other was in her hand. She sat up a little straighter when she saw me, her pink eyes connected with mine, which spoke a thousand unsaid words. Every muscle in my body turned to stone. She knew.

My legs weakened, and my hand slammed out to grip the frame of the door to hold myself up when I realised this was the moment I would lose her. She knew what I was. Who I was. And what that meant. I hadn’t lied to her. Not once. But I wouldn’t blame her if she felt betrayed or deceived. I wouldn’t blame her if she saw me as the monster the world portrayed me to be. It was one thing to want to help Heathen because she felt bad for him, but quite another to realise her soulmate, the person she was bound to, was a Demonski Upir.

“Ilaria, I–” My voice cracked. I choked on my words.