Red Water
796 Words
Aria’s POV
My bathwater in the clawfoot tub was no longer clear. It was a bruised pink, swirling with the remnants of the lives I had apparently taken in that alley, and who knows, maybe more.
I sat there, paralyzed, scrubbing at my skin until it was raw, but the feeling of being unclean wouldn't leave me.
As I closed my eyes, the flashes came back. They weren't clear memories; they were cracked bursts of violence.
I saw myself snap someone's throat. The sound of wet tearing. A pair of eyes wide with a terror that I had caused. I saw my own hands do it, but I couldn't tell if I saw it with my own eyes.
My breath hitched, and I instinctively reached up, my wet fingers pressing against the center of my chest. I touched the skin where the Mark had been, the spot that usually pulsed with a dull ache. My skin felt cold, but underneath, there was a vibration, like a hive of bees waking up after a long winter.
Something was definitely wrong with me.
A sharp knock at the door startled me, splashing water onto the marble floor. I scrambled out of the tub, my heart hammering against my ribs. I threw on a heavy silk robe, tying the belt tight enough to bruise, my damp hair clinging to my neck and dripping down my spine.
I walked toward the door, my bare feet silent on the rug. I reached for the handle, but stopped.
Something white was peeking out from underneath the dark wood. A note.
I frowned, my hand hovering over the lock. The guards were stationed outside, so how had someone slipped this through? I bent down, my fingers grazing the parchment. My mind raced, who could this be from?
Before I could unfold it, another knock sounded, louder and more insistent this time. I jumped, spinning around. My instincts screamed at me to hide the note. I didn't know why, but I knew I couldn't let whoever was behind that door see it.
I dropped the paper onto the small mahogany table behind me, smoothed my hair with a trembling hand, and turned back to open the door.
It was Noah.
He stepped inside immediately, the weight of his presence filling the room. He didn't walk far, just enough to enter the room before closing the door behind him with a soft, final click. He just stood there, his eyes scanning me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
"I came to check on you," he said. His voice was no longer filled with the cold fury from before, but it wasn't soft, either. It felt… painful.
I looked everywhere but at him. I stared at the damp hem of his trousers, the grain of the floorboards, anywhere but those searching eyes.
"I'm fine," I whispered, pulling my robe tighter. Suddenly, I felt uncomfortable around him.
"Good." Noah took a half-step forward, his scent overwhelming the smell of the bath salts. "We’re going to get to the bottom of this, Aria. I’ve already sent scouts back to the alley. We’ll find out what happened to you. And we’ll find out exactly what Julian did to Maeve."
"Okay," I breathed. My throat felt tight, as if the words were being squeezed out of me.
The silence between us stretched, thick and charged with all the things we weren't saying. The slap, the betrayal, the gap in my memory, it was all there, a wall of glass between us. I thought he was going to leave. I expected him to turn around and walk out, back to his duties and his secrets.
But he didn't move.
Suddenly, Noah’s hand shot out, his fingers hooking into the silk of my robe. Before I could gasp, he moved forward and fast, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me against him. The impact knocked the air from my lungs as my breasts rested on his chest.
I was forced to look up, my chest heaving against his solid frame, my wet hair dripping onto his shirt. His grip was possessive, almost desperate. He tilted his head, his face inches from mine, his breath warm against my lips. I could see the flecks of gold in his irises, the raw, unmasked hunger that he usually kept buried under layers of Alpha discipline.
For a heartbeat, the world stopped. Our lips were so close I could feel the static between them. I could feel my stomach turn as his hands stayed firm on my waist. Then he looked me in the eye.
"Don't ever try that again.”
- Writer
