Page 31

Wrath

I stare into nothing as Aurelia stirs against me, finally waking up after getting absolutely railed last night. She turns, side-eyeing me, a small smile playing on her lips. With my arm already tightly wrapped around her from behind, she pushes her ass back against my cock and I growl low in my throat.

She turns in my arms to face me, settling in, and when she’s comfortable, I look down at her. That’s when I notice the fresh cut on her cheek. I lift my hand and gently run my thumb over it.

“What happened here?” I ask.

She sighs, lowering her eyes.

“Your godfather decided to throw something at me last night,” she admits.

My head lifts slightly, brows pinching, anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Don’t worry about it. He clearly doesn’t like me.”

I growl, lying my head back down.

“He doesn’t fucking like anyone. He’s a prick. And I’ll kill him.”

She glances up at me now.

“You don’t get on?” she asks softly.

I stare at the black walls behind her, reading over my red script painted across them as I answer.

“He’s the only parent I had. Mine were killed—here at Oddity.”

I drop my eyes back to hers.

“That’s what he tells me anyway. But I don’t entirely trust him. He’s a fucking psychopath.”

She nods in quiet understanding, and I lift my hand to run my fingers through her silky hair.

“Stay away from him for now. He’s not gonna last much longer.”

She smiles faintly.

“You shouldn’t hurt your family for me.”

My brows knit and I lean over her on one elbow.

“I’ll fucking kill anyone for you, Allure. Don’t ever forget that. Besides, he’s not family”

She scans my face as I continue.

“None of this, this blood, this society, this fucked-up circus, means a single thing if you’re not beside me now, little corpse. You go, and I burn it all the fuck down, and smile while it crumbles.”

“You smiling?” she taunts, and I snarl, yanking her closer, our bodies pressing together, the heat of her skin searing into mine.

We fall into a heavy silence, our breaths mingling in the space between us, lips just a touch apart.

“Tell me about yourself, Wrath,” she whispers, her gaze searching mine, like she’s trying to read me, to unravel what’s hidden beneath the surface. “You know enough about me.”

“Do I?” I ask, my voice low, the question more of a challenge than curiosity. I shift slightly, adjusting my head on the pillow, but don’t look away.

“I think you know a fair amount,” she says softly, a shadow passing across her face. “But not much of my past is good.”

I study her, the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, the ghosts of memories she’s trying to bury and it’s like looking at my own reflection.

“Neither is mine, little corpse,” I murmur.

“You’ve been hurt too?” Her voice is tentative, like she’s afraid to ask, but can’t help herself. “Is that why you don’t speak to many people?”

I stay silent, not sure what to say, my words drying up in my throat.

She lifts herself slowly, climbing on top of me as I roll onto my back. Her warm, small body presses against mine, and my hands sweep over the curves of her ass and hips.

She rests her chin on her folded hands on my chest, her lips brushing lightly against mine.

“Give me the worst parts of you, Wrath. Let your nightmares seep into my skin like they were living there first. Let me taste every silent scream still clawing at your throat. Let me feel the ruin that made you, the destruction in your bones.” She breathes, sweeping her mouth over mine, eyes fluttering closed. “Let me drown in it all with you.”

My chest rises beneath her, slow and heavy, and I stare up at the ceiling for a beat before glancing down.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” I murmur. “The worst parts of me don’t stay silent—they spread. They fucking infect.”

“Then let it. I don’t want some filtered version of you. I want what everyone else runs from.”

A small twitch touches my lips as my hand finds her hair, stroking it slowly, a deep sigh leaving me.

“You breathe in every filthy part of me like you were born to, little corpse. Like you crave the rot that carved me into this fucking nightmare. Since the second you staggered into my chaos, I haven’t felt the need to scream, because now I burn it into you.” I admit. “You are drowning in it all with me already. You always have been.”

Her eyes soften before I lean forward, pressing my nose to hers.

“How does it feel to be choked on Wrath?” I bite out viciously.

She giggles, shaking her head, then her eyes trail over the walls, lingering on the mess of ink and scratches.

“And all these words?” she asks, tilting her head, eyes cutting back to mine.

“When you’ve got too much to say and no one to fucking say it to, this is what it becomes,” I mutter, jaw twitching. “It’s just chaos bleeding out. Nonsense. Better out than festering.”

She stares at one of the phrases, her smile faltering.

“So it helps?” she asks low.

I let out a breath, eyes heavy. “It eases the heaviness of unspoken words, maybe, and it just stops the urge of carving it into someone else instead.”

Her eyes flash to mine, and her smile returns before she leans forward, pressing a kiss to my lips, then climbs off me.

“I’m gonna shower, then head to the Cirque for the day,” she says while grabbing my hoodie, pulling it over her naked body. “I’ll see you later?”

I give a small nod, eyes fixed on the curve of her ass as she walks toward the door.

“Get some sleep or something,” she says with a soft smirk over her shoulder before slipping out and closing the door behind her.

Silence swells heavy and suffocating in her wake.

And all I can think about is Valen. About what I’ll do to him if he ever lays a fucking hand on her again. Godfather or not, I’ll snap his brittle body like dry bone and grind him into meat.