†
She rolls her eyes, and lets out a sharp, derisive scoff. "Why what?"
"Why did you do it?"
"I've done a lot of things, Abel," she says, voice light as a feather. "I blinked. I moved. I let you drag me here—"
"Why did you feed on him!"
That halts her. "Ahhh, that."
With deliberate poise, she shifts—one leg tucked beneath her, the other bent to prop her elbow. Her voice turns soft, almost indulgent. "I'm a monster, Abel. You didn't actually think I'd spare him after he beat me, did you?"
"No, I didn't. And I didn't also think you'd bite him—and then feed on his body."
Her lips part. "Feed? I wasn't feeding on him, I—"
"You had your fangs on his neck! Even when we walked in, you didn't let go! You remained there, sitting on him," I drag in a long, trembling breath. "And you knew—you knew—you weren't supposed to do that. Not to him. So why did you?"
She sighs heavily, then rises gracefully, unhurried, as if Luther's blood has somehow lent her strength to be majestic and... radiant.
She closes the distance between us until she's within arm's reach. Her gaze travels over my face, searching, and savoring. Then, her lips curl into something between amusement and disdain.
"You're asking why I bit Luther..." she says, tilting her head, "or why I bit Luther?"
Two long strides and the distance between us disappears. My hand finds her throat, and I slam her against the wall. The sound echoes like a slammed door. Crazy, she doesn't flinch. Instead, she laughs, a low, wicked sound that vibrates through my palm.
"Don't test me," I hiss. "You know why I'm upset, so don't play with me."
Her gaze flicks down to my mouth before she answers, voice dripping with mockery. "I'm not. I mean... I'm just being myself; a bloodthirsty animal. But, what's your excuse? Why are you so angry—"
"I am not!"
That only makes her laugh harder. "No, of course not. Your breath is shaking, the veins in your neck are begging to be seen, and you've pinned me simply because it's dark outside and you don't know what else to do with your life."
She's right. I always lose control when I can't have what I want.
But what about Abel? What's his excuse? Is this fury really about Luther's death... or something else?
"I was just with Cain, pleading—begging him to remove the shackles from your feet. Do you think he'll do that now, after what you've done?"
Her smile dies instantly. "I never asked you to do that—"
"You didn't have to!" My voice breaks, shaking with rage. "because I feel it; every strike of the whip against your back, the bone-ache from walking too long, the weight of dragging these irons day after day. I felt it, as if it were my own flesh bursting under the lash."As I yell at her, my grip hardens around her neck until her breath catches. "I'm warning you... do, not, play with me."
"Or else what?" she whispers back, then lifts her chin to catch my gaze, her eyes burning with a quiet rage. "You'll kiss me? And soon I let my guard down—stab me in the back?"
Something in my chest drops instantly, and then starts pounding, hard. My grip loosen around her, finally. Then, my feet moves back gently, retreating.
"No," she steps closer, voice shaking. "Go on, do it. You did it before."
I look down at the shackles clamped around her wrists and ankles. It didn't an erosion of memories to flood my mind before realizing that I-Abel, might just be the one responsible for ... this.
This was how he chained her- with a kiss. What's wrong with you, Abel? And what's wrong with her? Why didn't she fight back? If she's truly as powerful as they say, why endure this? Why stay bound when she can just simply break free?
I stumble back again, avoiding her gaze, carrying another man's guilt in my heart as if it was i who hurt her. And suddenly my hand feels too cold, too empty.
So I grope blindly for something—anything to steady myself with, or rather... end all this. Her suffering.
My eyes catches on a rock half-buried in the dirt. I reach for it, heavy and cold, just enough to break the shackles.
"Abel?" She whispers softly, carefully, the mockery and sarcasm that once lingered in her voice are now gone. "What are you doing with that?"
All there is now, all I hear now, is care. Concern.
With the rock in my hand, I start towards her. And of course, she takes several steps back, until her back is up against the wall again. Her tone tightens, desperate now. "Abel? What are you going to do with that?!"
Abel? Abel?
If I was Abel, I wouldn't just sit around, begging Cain for mercy on her behalf- I'd free her from this very shackles. I'd set her free. But fortunately, Abel and I... are nothing alike. Abel is an ordinary man. I am more.
I go down on one knee before her shackles, my grip tightening around the stone. And then, strike it hard against it. The clang reverberates through the hut, and then, something happens.
A blinding, scorching pain seizes me completely, as though I've struck my own chest with the very rock. And I'm not talking about Abel's body alone, I mean Abel's body and me.
An invisible hand throw me across the hut. My spine hits the wall, fast enough to rip air from my lungs, hard enough to hear my bones crack.
I drop on my four before collapsing onto the ground, coughing until blood surges up, spilling across my face.
"Abel, no!"
The night child screams my name in agony, and before I can even blink, she's by my side, scooping me up against her chest.
"What in Adam's name is wrong with you!" she shouts, like a mother scolding her child.
"You know very well that the chains are enchanted, why would you do that?!"
Enchanted?
I wheeze helplessly before coughing again, tasting iron in my throat.
Why—why do I always learn the truth at the very last minute?
I try to laugh but it dies midway, turning into a rough cough which makes the pain in my chest even angrier. "Did you see that? I flew." I manage a slight humor, grinning sheepishly.
She only stares down at me, quiet, deep in thought, I guess.
"You know..." I began, serious this time. "When the mountain men told me the shackles were blessed, I didn't believe them. Not until now."
She maintains her composure, but only for a second before she explodes in my face. "You goat!" Her voice cuts like a whip. "You knew those white-headed bastards better than anyone, and still you took their warnings lightly! What were you thinking? What did you expect would happen when one attempts to break these shackles free?"
I try to laugh again but it ends with a wheeze. "You're right. I'm a fool, an animal. A goat. What was I thinking? I just wanted to break the chains... to free you."
"To free me." She repeats, her voice soft. And then she lets out a laugh of her own. I join her, but stops when something warm, something wet splashes on my chest. Tears.
"You... " she sniffs. "You are not boring at all; First you put me in chains, and now you want to get me out of the chains. What do you even want, Abel?"
"I made a mistake, and now I want to make it right. I want to do what you're hesitating to do."
"It's not that simple."
"I know you're stronger than everyone I've met, I know you can break free from this—i'm not entirely naive. So why? Why don't you just run away? Why do you allow yourself to be dragged —
"Because, Abel, it's the only way I can pay you back!" She pauses, as she does so the room falls into a dead quiet. "It's the only way I pay for what I did—to you, and to Cain. And to your family."
"You can't do that."
"I'm doing it already—"
"You don't get to decide who pays and who doesn't!" I force myself upright, and then grabs her by her shoulders. "You're mine. Only I decide your fate. And your fate... is to live, by any means necessary. Do you understand? Do, you, understand me?"
She nods once, faintly. Then again, harder.
"And the next time I see your fangs on anyone who isn't me," I continue, holding her gaze. "That will be the last time you have fangs. Am I clear?"
She scoffs, then cups my cheek. "I can't use my fangs on you again, Abel."
"Why?" I grit. Somehow, it hurts to hear her say those words.
"You wouldn't understand."
"You're right, I won't. But I know what I want," I wheeze, clutching my chest as another wave of pain blooms there. "If you ever want to play with your fangs - you come to me. Only me."
She cups my hand in between hers. "Never will a day come where I will use my fangs on you, Abel. Never. And... I really hope that you stop testing me too. I will never use my fangs on you again, and that is final." She lowers her head to press her lips gently on my palm.
I close my eyes, letting out a long breath, as though I've been holding them for a long time.
I liked this moment, it's peaceful, it's quiet. It's what every lover wants; a moment where they get to exist in each other's arms. In Aravoth, Malak are forbidden to even dream of having this moment with anyone except Adonai. But here... it's very much possible, in fact, one could do more than just be in each other's arms, they could be in each other's soul too.
But even so. There will always be forces, designed to ruin that moment just when it starts to mend your broken flesh, just when it starts to heal your soul. In my case, that forces designed just for me, isn't Adonai. It's Cain.
"Stay away from him!"
Cain's screams, almost like his throat was going to rip open. Before I can even panic, he rushes closer and hits the Night child with his torch, knocking her out instantly.
And then, again, for the second time, pain exploded in my head like a second blow, almost as if I struck myself again in the head? Almost as if Cain hit me too, because it feels strangely so.
I groan loudly, hands cradling my skull.