Page 10 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

I’d let myself get distracted, lost in her mess, temporarily blurring my image in the mirror. I was created to hurt things, to never know peace, and had forgotten for a brief moment that I was to kill any and all emotion.

There is no place for it inside of me. No home for it to live.

I’m empty, driven by ego and the control that comes from ending someone’s life. That is who I am. That is the person who she has to deal with, to understand I am not her death-crossed lover. I’m the root of all evil, the seed of immorality.

“How dull are you to kill someone in a public parking lot?” I place my hand beneath her chin, tilting it up so she’s looking me in the eyes. “I told you never to kill using emotion as fuel. Yet, here we are, Lyra.”

A few of her tears mingle with the rain falling.

“He was there,” she mumbles. “He was there shopping, and you weren’t. You were gone, and I thought—”

“You thought?”

“You were dead. I thought you were dead, and he was still breathing after everything he’d done to me. Done to us. I couldn’t.” Her head shakes, hands wobbly with adrenaline. “I couldn’t control it. It was easier to feel the urge than deal with the sadness. So yes, I killed out of emotion. But that’s not my fault.”

Oh, spare me.

My fingers tighten on her chin, showing my disapproval of her answer.

“Whose fault is it, Lyra? His? God? Are you back to not owning what you are? What you like to do to people?”

“Yours,” she accuses. “It’s your fucking fault.”

I scoff, shaking my head at the response. I open my mouth to argue, maybe to say something harsh so that maybe she stands a chance of detaching from me before it gets her killed, but she beats me to the punch.

“You left.” Her voice shakes, sadness and grief rippling from every single word. “You left Alistair. You left Rook and Silas. You leftme.” Her small hands hit her chest at the words, as if she feels each of them like a knife to the heart.

I feel her emotions like every drop of rain.

How easily she shows every ounce of feeling on her face. Always real, too raw.

“We had no idea where you went or what happened. We thought you were fucking dead! You let your best friends believe you’d fucking died, and you expect me to be fine? To be okay!”

The storm bashes against my skin, and the thunder echoes loudly, shaking the trees. Elements of nature in tune with the havoc brewing beneath our skin.

“Are you so out of tune with humanity that you can’t possibly fucking understand what you’ve done? We looked everywhere. I couldn’t find—”

“Did you ever stop to think I didn’t want to be found? By anyone?” I interrupt her screaming. “Did you think about that before slitting a man’s throat in the back seat of your car like some amateur?”

“I’m not anyone.”

Her reply is instant. Resolute. So confident in the words that even I believe her for a moment. The wind blows her hair across her face, and I gently tuck the strands behind her ear.

I tilt my head, stroking her cheek with the back of my hand.

“Aren’t you though?”

Lyra’s body jerks, and she flinches as if I’d smacked her across the face with the hand still brushing her skin. She pulls from my touch for the first time since I’ve met her. Darling phantom is the one to remove herself from me.

She’s drowning in the storm, the gusts of harsh wind making her hair fly around her head. Her shoulders straighten, and all remains of emotions floods away, washed by my words.

I can see every single brick being laid as she builds those walls right in front of me. So, I help with the construction.

“Do you feel that?” I ask. “Knowing how easy it was for me to leave you?”

Those walls are a defense from things that scare her. A stress response, thanks to my father. I’ve seen them before, but those shields aren’t standing tall due to fear tonight.

It’s because of pain.