Page 36 of Dark Souls

Broken Pieces

I growled with frustration as I 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?

Bile rose in my throat at the thought and tears sprung to my eyes. I pulled out the plug, allowing the bloody water to disappear down the drain as I grabbed a towel and pressed it against his wounds. His heartbeat was fading by the second and in a blind panic, I unsheathed my fangs and bit into my wrist, shoving it against his mouth as his head lolled to the side over the rim of the bath.

“Drink, goddammit!” I demanded, squeezing more blood into his mouth and coating his lips. “Drink! You do not get to fucking die on me. Do you hear me? Drink!”

It felt like forever until a groan came from his lips and his fangs sank into my flesh, locking his mouth around my wrist as he took slow, sluggish gulps of my blood. I exhaled in relief as he pulled on my vein more frantically, his hand snapping up and pressing my arm into his mouth with feverish need. I sat back on the floorboards as the adrenaline and pure panic as well as how ravenous he was becoming at the taste of my blood made me lightheaded. With my other hand raking through his wet red hair, I pressed my forehead against his temple as my lips parted when the sensations turned into pleasure. He groaned erotically; the sound causing instant wetness between my legs as I peered down the length of his body to see his dick hardening.

As he regained consciousness, I pulled my head back to see a violent haze of madness had taken hold of him. As fast as a lightning strike, he was out of the bath and had tackled me down, slamming my back against the floorboards. My dress was ripped to shreds before his hand wrapped around my neck and crazed red eyes bore into mine. His sharp fangs were dripping with my blood while our rapid breaths blended together. In one thrust, he was inside me, causing me to cry out at the sudden fullness as my back arched, pressing me against his weight. He roared before sinking his fangs into my neck, taking long swallows of my blood as my eyes rolled back into my head. He was so voracious and untamed. I locked my legs around his waist as he pounded into my body with savagery, sparing nothing. The ferociousness of his thrusts stole the air out of my lungs as he took me with him to the depths of his darkness.

His solid body, hard, heavy and ruthless in its power, pinned me down. Knowing I had nowhere to go and was completely at his mercy, I gave in to the pooling heat coiling in my belly and screamed out my orgasm as he pumped his hips with insane speed, growling into my neck as he took every drop he needed. In the next thrust, he released his bite, lifting his head and roaring so loud I swear the old manor shook as blood dripped down his chin and the hot jets of his cum filled me. He fell down on top of me, crushing me under his weight as I stared up at the ceiling over his shoulder, both of us panting heavily but otherwise completely still.

It took me a moment to regain my senses and with it came a flurry of emotions. What the hell was that? What just happened? Why did he do that to himself? Now that I knew he would live, concern mixed with rage as I swallowed thickly to keep the hurt from forming tears in my eyes and shoved him off me. He rolled, falling to my side on the floor, still trying to catch his breath. I stood up abruptly, ridding the scraps of my dress from my body and allowed my gaze to drift over him. His beautiful body was a mess. Deep cuts that had stopped bleeding but weren’t healing adorned his skin. We stared at each other; the silence loaded and suffocating as his red eyes held mine with no emotion on his stoic face.

My nostrils flared. Did he really just try to kill himself and then fuck me? Why was he like this? Would I ever know what was really going on in his head? Or would this always be the way it was between us?

I turned, storming out of the bathroom and grabbing one of his shirts to throw on, seeing as he’d ruined my own clothes. I started pacing the desolate, creepy bedroom and tapping my fingers against my thighs as I waited for him to emerge. We couldn’t carry on like this. I needed answers. I need to know him. To understand him. The real him. The one that I see glimpses of in the rarest of moments. Moments he doesn’t even know he has. But I was at a loss. And I was realising just how fucking deep I was in this. Because when I saw him unconscious in that bath… my world shifted on its axis. I’d never panic like that. Even when my life had been hanging in the balance in Heroux, I didn’t feel the same fear seeing him like that caused. And I didn’t know how I was supposed to handle it or deal with this situation at all. I wasn’t a very empathetic person to begin with, tough love was normally my go to. But he needed help. Yet, I didn’t have the slightest clue how to help him, and it was breaking me into pieces.

When he finally appeared, completely naked and drying his hair with a towel, I paused, staring at him hard. He looked so… unfazed. As if none of that had even happened. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides.

“You came back,” he said casually, throwing the towel over the desk chair and grabbing a pair of black jogging bottoms. As he tugged them on, my eyes fell to the outline of his perfect dick and I groaned internally. Was he using every means possible to distract me from talking about what just happened? Well, it would not work. Not this time. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“So, what? You tried to kill yourself?” Disbelief made me shout, unable to keep the hurt and pain at bay. I stormed towards him and grabbed one of his arms. I held it up between us to show him the cuts, and he looked down at them as if seeing them for the first time. I waited for a reaction. For an explanation. For emotion. Anything. But he just removed his arm from my grasp and looked into my eyes.

“No.”

“So you weren’t trying to kill yourself?”

“No.”

I frowned deeply, folding my arms over my chest.

“Do you want a drink? I could use a drink,” he said, walking around me and out of the bedroom. I stared after him, completely bewildered, before I snapped.

“No! I do not what a fucking drink, Luka! I want to talk to you!” I raced out the door after him as he made his way down the stairs barefoot and headed towards the kitchen, bypassing those eerie portraits without even a glance. “Stop walking away from me!”

“I’m not,” he answered without looking back. “I’m getting a drink, like I said. Do you want one?” He pulled out a bottle of neat vodka, his go-to beverage I had noticed, and grabbed two glasses, placing them on the kitchen island. He filled them up, ignoring my piercing gaze from the doorway, and then downed his completely before refilling.

I didn’t speak. I waited for him to look at me. When he finally did, his burning gaze locked with mine, and he didn’t look away even though he could see all the emotions on my face. He licked his lips before taking another sip of vodka. Clearly, we were both as stubborn as each other. This could be a long night, but he’d met his match if he thought I would let this go.

He sighed, running his hand through his red hair, which made all his delicious muscles bulge under his scarred skin. My heart lurched once more at the memory of how he’d got them. I’d noticed a few faded scars hidden under his tattoos before, but now I couldn’t unsee them. Or how many there really were.

“You shouldn’t have seen that. I’m sorry. But don’t look at me like that. I don’t need your pity.”

My eyebrows furrowed. I stepped into the room, my instinct to be closer to him driving me forward.

“I’m not looking at you with pity. I just… I’m trying to understand. Why would you do that? Hurt yourself like that? The scars… do you cut yourself? Often?” I tried to keep the softness out of my voice, knowing he didn’t want my concern, but it was damn near impossible.

He turned his back on me, placing his hands on the kitchen top as his shoulders bunched, and he stared out of the window.

I walked over to him until I was behind his solid back. I didn’t know what I was doing or how to get through to him to make him realise I wasn’t giving up, so instead, I just followed my instincts. My fingertips traced his scars tenderly, and he spun around, grabbing my wrist.

His fiery gaze stared down at me as he worked the muscles in his jaw. “Don’t.”

I peered up at him, stepping in closer as his hand on my wrist tightened in warning. I held his gaze and I placed a gentle kiss against one of the fresh cuts on his chest. His eyes slammed closed.

“What are you doing?” he snarled between his fangs as I continued to kiss every fresh cut on the surface of his skin.

“Kissing them better,” I whispered. He opened his eyes as his gorgeous face scrunched up with a flicker of recognition. “Just like your mama used.”

His eyes widened, and he jolted away from me in surprise. “What did you say?” he hissed, anger radiating off him in waves. I swallowed as I lifted my chin, meeting his anger with calmness.

“I think I’ve been having flashbacks of your past, Luka. When I sleep, these memories come to me. But they are not mine. They are yours.”

He shook his head, completely taken aback by my confession. “How? Why?”

“I don’t know. I have always had the power to hear people’s thoughts but never their past or futures. This is new. And so far, it’s only happened with you. I think us being soulmates has something to do with it.”

He remained deathly still and silent for a while and I let him work through whatever was going on in his mind. When he finally looked at me, I saw a spark of something in his eyes. One of those rare moments of vulnerability shining through.

“What did you see?”

“First, I saw your mother. You were just a child. She was tucking you into bed and singing you a lullaby. You’d cut your forehead and asked her to kiss it better,” I said carefully as he slumped down into a chair and placed his head in his hands. I moved closer to him, apprehensive at first, and weaved my hand through his hair tenderly. His shoulders sagged at my touch. “She was lovely. And she clearly loved you very much.”

He shot out of his seat in a blur, causing me to jump back in alarm as he paced the floor, his hand covering his mouth. That viciousness in his eyes was back in full force as he glared at the floor.

“I can’t do this.” He started shaking his head. His whole body was trembling, and I knew he was close to losing control. “I can’t—”

“Hey!” I raced forwards, grabbing his shoulders and forcing his back against the wall. “Look at me! Luka, this is a good thing. I know you can’t tell me about your past but this way, I might put the pieces together. I’ll be able to figure out what happened and how to help you.”

“No!” he shouted, grabbing my face in his huge hands so firmly I gasped. “Not like this. I can’t have you knowing like this. Seeing it all. Feeling it all. The pain. The suffering. The torture. The deaths. Everything that happened to me and why. You’ll see it and I can’t protect you from it!” His voice wobbled with sudden emotion and I swear his eyes flickered with a rim of the darkest shade of emerald I’d ever seen. Oh my god… I was reaching him. I was tearing beneath the surface of his vampire form and reaching his humanity.

“Luka, I can handle it,” I promised, stretching up to his face as he shook his head frantically. “I know I can handle it all. No matter what, I’m not going anywhere. It won’t scare me away.”

“No. You can’t promise that,” he growled, the red back in full force as I felt the disappointment pull in my chest. But I hadn’t imagined it. It was there. His humanity. Just below the surface. “It will ruin you. You’ll leave me.”

“I won’t.” I tugged his head down to mine, pressing my forehead against his as I stared into his eyes. “I won’t leave. No matter what you’ve done in your past. No matter what I see. I won’t leave. I’m staying through the darkness, Luka. In fact, I am already in it. And I am staying here whether you like it or not. I will find a way to drag us both back out of it if I have to, but I am not leaving without you. Do you hear me?”

“I can’t trust it. I can’t believe you will accept me and everything I’ve done,” he whispered, his hands weaving into my hair and pulling tightly until my head tilted up to his. “But I am in too deep with you to care if you break my fucking heart, Ilaria.”

“I’m not her,” I said with conviction as his eyes widened slightly. It was the confirmation I needed. That witch bitch had betrayed him. “She broke your heart, didn’t she? Belladonna Knowlton.”

His lips parted, breathing deeply as his eyes scanned my face and landed on my lips. “No. She betrayed me. But she couldn’t have broken my heart, love. Because it has only ever belonged to you.”

The world stopped moving as we stared into each other’s eyes. And then his lips were on mine, frantic and passionate. I jumped up into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist as he held me to him, his hand in my hair and our tongues fighting for each other’s taste.

And that was the moment. The moment I knew I’d die for this man. I’d find whoever hurt him. If they were already dead, I’d dance on their graves. If they were still breathing, they would meet my wrath. I wouldn’t stop until I found every person who had taken a piece of him, leaving him broken and fractured. I’d steal those pieces back one by one until he heals. He would never be the same as he once was, but he’d be mine. My Luka. And one day, he’d realise it too.