Scarred(Never After #2)(77)
Cheers ring out across the tables.
“No longer will we be cast to the shadowed lands while the rich and perfect get to live in the light. It is our time to shine.”
More yells and hollers, a few people throwing bits of trash into the iron cage that houses Alexander.
My stomach cramps, aching to turn away—to make this nightmare disappear—yet I’m glued to the spot, unable to do anything other than watch. His charisma is astounding, and the more his words flow from his mouth to the rest of the room, you can feel the energy shift, as if he’s molding it into whatever shape he desires and feeding it back to them like it was always theirs. It’s the most incredible sight I’ve witnessed, and I have no doubt that if he desires the crown, it will end up on his head.
He speaks so eloquently, so mesmerizing, that even I fall under his spell. My heart beats faster, my breathing comes harsher, and excitement wells up in the center of my stomach, expanding through my limbs until I picture what it would be like to stand at his side.
But then I remember where I am, and who he is. And the feeling disappears, replaced with bile that turns my stomach from the inside out.
I skim the surroundings again, moving over the people until my eyes land on Sheina, her arms around the neck of a rebel in the king’s uniform. I rack my brain, trying to remember his name, but come up blank.
She’s a fool. The same kind I have been. Losing myself in the arms of a man.
A lying, pathetic excuse of a man.
My legs ache from my crouched position and I shift on the balls of my feet, that ever-present ache flaring to life between my legs, only this time it doesn’t bring comfort.
I can hardly stand to look at him, but I force my eyes there anyway, maybe to prove that I can live through the worst kind of betrayal, or maybe the masochist in me wants to live in the pain as I try to come to terms with the fact that despite everything, the one person I thought I could trust, turned out to be my worst enemy.
He licked my tears, and told me I was his, right after he sent men to kill me.
My chest squeezes until the blood vessels burst, exploding in a fury until all I can taste is the sour notes of betrayal.
The rebel king. The scarred prince.
My hand flies to my mouth to stifle the scream.
I let him see the darkest parts of me. Allowed him to mark me, and hurt me, and I begged for it while I rubbed his cum into my skin and prayed to God it would brand my soul.
My teeth grit as hatred, black and true, burns through me until I shake, violence pounding in my ears.
I’ve done many things that will keep me from the gates of Heaven. I’ve come to terms with my sins, giving up my faith long ago in order to seek vengeance. But right now, I feel as though I’ve truly betrayed my father’s memory for the first time.
I slept with a Faasa. But worse than that, I fell for the man responsible for his death.
My heart trembles and cracks, the jagged edges slicing through tendons as they fall to my feet, until nothing remains but a blackened hole that almost knew what it felt like to fall in love.
Tristan’s head snaps to where I am, green eyes piercing as his head tilts.
Jumping to my feet, I turn and flee, adrenaline pumping like acid through my muscles as I run back the way I came, promising my father’s ghost I won’t forget why I came. Not again.
I will eradicate the Faasa family and kill the rebel king… no matter how much it may break me.
CHAPTER 43
Tristan
My brother asked if I was a man of faith.
I’m a man of many things, but faith is something that is best suited when it’s placed within yourself instead of seeking for it in other people.
Other people disappoint.
I saw her. It was quick; just a flash, but I’d know those dark eyes anywhere.
Everything in me demanded to follow; to hunt her down and sneak into her room like I did the other night. But something is telling me I shouldn’t. Not yet.
So, I went to her cousin instead.
Xander has been with us since the night of the engagement ball, naturally. And in the time since, he’s been on display, beaten and abused, the open wounds growing infected and causing what I’m sure is an immeasurable amount of pain. I imagine sepsis will set in soon, eating him from the inside out.
I splash a bucket of water on his face, rousing him. He looks around, but I’ve tied him to a wooden slab in the tavern's backyard. I secured both of his legs with rope, and his good hand as well.
He jerks but realizes quickly he isn’t going anywhere. Even if he was free to move, he’s far too weak to escape.
“Good morning, Alexander.” I smile.
“I’ve told you,” he mumbles, his tongue peeking out of his dry mouth to wipe over his cracked and bleeding lips. He coughs before he continues. “Everything… I know.”
Tsking, I shake my head. “Come now, Xander. We both know that’s not true. You haven’t told me anything.”
“Just kill me,” he whispers. “Please.”
I place down the empty bucket at my feet, moving to where a gallon of kerosene sits at the end of the table. “You believe you’ve paid your penance?”
He nods.
“And what were your crimes?”
He presses his lips together, turning his face away. Everything he does is in slow motion, as if he doesn’t have the strength to exert the proper amount of energy.