Chapter 8
1345 Words
EVELYN
Orion senses my silence and shifts topics.
“The burn on your back… how did it happen?”
“Why? Does it bother you?”
“No. Just… it looks like it hurt.”
“It did. Doesn’t anymore.”
“So what happened?”
“Does it matter? It was years ago.”
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen.”
“House fire?”
I change the subject.
“Did you do something to Vick?”
His expression shifts. Darkens.
“You killed him, didn’t you?”
“Do you really want to know?”
I shrug. Maybe. Maybe not.
“Come on. Let’s get out. You must be hungry.”
He opens the shower screen and hands me a towel. Wrapping another around his waist, he steps out.
I follow, drying off and throwing on the shorts and shirt he gave me.
“Thaddeus is making pancakes,” he says, tugging my hand and pulling me downstairs.
The smell hits me like heaven.
“I didn’t think you cooked,” I say to Thaddeus as he flips a pancake.
“I have layers.”
He places a stack on the island, and Orion hands me a plate—then dumps way too many on it.
I slide a few off. Still full.
I take a bite—and moan.
“Good?” Thaddeus asks, smirking.
“Very.”
“How long have you lived here?” I ask.
“Can’t remember. A while.”
“Where were you before this?”
“Everywhere. With my parents mostly.”
“You have parents?”
“Everyone does, Evelyn.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes. They’re still alive. I have a sister too,” he says, staring off before blinking and shaking it off.
“What about you?” I ask Ryland.
“Dead. Killed by the Council.”
“Council?”
“Supernatural law enforcement,” he explains.
I look at Orion.
“No family. They died before I was changed. These two are it for me.”
“What about you?” Ryland asks.
“No idea. Never met them.”
“What about foster care?”
“Yeah. Bounced around. Dropped off at a church when I was a baby. A nun found me.”
“That explains the newspaper clipping,” Ryland says to Thaddeus.
“What clipping?”
“The one in the box under your bed.”
I blink. “You went through my stuff?”
“You’re not mad?” Thaddeus asks.
I shrug and rinse my plate.
“Not much to find. Besides, everyone’s got skeletons.”
“And yours?”
“You tell me yours. I’ll tell you mine.”
He shakes his head.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Like the burn on your back?” he asks.
“Yes. Exactly like that.”
After eating breakfast for dinner, I move to the lounge. Orion follows and drops down beside me. “We should head to bed soon,” he says.
Thaddeus and Ryland emerge and make their way upstairs. I catch Orion watching them go.
“You go. I’m not tired,” I tell him, not wanting to be anywhere near Thaddeus or Ryland. I’ve slept most of the last twenty-four hours, and the idea of crawling into a bed with either of them makes my stomach turn.
“I don’t sleep,” Orion says, stretching out.
My brow furrows. “What do you mean you don’t sleep?”
“I’m not human, Evelyn. I don’t need it. Not like Ryland. Thaddeus either, though he does sleep.”
“Thaddeus sleeps,” I insist.
He nods. “He can go weeks without it. When he does, he gets… manic.”
Manic. That’s just fantastic. A volatile monster with insomnia issues.
“So, what exactly is Thaddeus?” I ask, still not understanding how he’s this… thing. Not just vampire or Lycan. More.
“It’s complicated. He’s part vampire, part Lycan—his mother was a witch hybrid. It’s… messy. Even he doesn’t fully understand what he is.”
He’s about to continue when Thaddeus’s voice cuts through the air.
“A monster.”
I jerk my head up. He’s at the base of the stairs, eyes locked on me. I hadn’t even heard him come down.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” Orion replies quietly. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Didn’t have to. You were thinking it.” Thaddeus doesn’t spare him a glance. His attention is still on me.
“What about your sister?” I ask, needing a distraction. “Is she the same?”
“Amara is like me, only her magic is different. Clean. Pure. Mine’s old magic—dark, twisted. Not of this realm.” His words send a chill through me.
“Enough questions. Get up. Time for bed,” he commands, stepping toward me.
“I said I’m not tired. And I’m not sleeping in the same room as you,” I snap.
He growls, and just like that, the atmosphere changes. The switch flips. One second he’s cold then calm, the next, a storm in human skin.
He lunges and grabs me, yanking me off the couch.
“Thaddeus! You’re hurting me!” I shout, trying to pry his fingers from my wrist.
“That’s nothing compared to what I’ll do if you don’t get upstairs. Now,” he snarls.
A tremor crawls over my skin, fear tightening my lungs.
“You don’t just get to force people, Thaddeus. You can’t control everyone,” I growl back, yanking at my arm.
“And who’s going to stop me? Not Orion. Not Ryland. No one can save you from me, Evelyn. You’re human. Weak. You are mine.”
“Thaddeus, just let her sleep down here,” Orion says, stepping between us. “She’ll come around when she’s ready.”
Fat chance, I think. The only thing I’m coming around to is the next escape plan. I’d rather live in the sewers than spend one more night here.
Thaddeus turns his dark gaze to Orion. “Clearly you’re forgetting our deal. Her friend’s life. Do you want her death to be on your hands?”
My heart drops.
Dark veins ripple under his skin, spreading down his face. His fangs push past his lips. Orion moves to my side, placing a steadying hand on my back. My chest tightens, my lungs constricting. I feel the familiar, horrible edge of a panic attack rising.
“You can’t, not like this,” Orion says. “You’ll kill her, Thaddeus.”
“I don’t care,” he spits, shoving Orion away. Orion stumbles, regains balance.
“That’s exactly why I won’t let you mark her—not when you’re like this.”
“Ryland!” Orion yells.
Footsteps thunder down the stairs, and Ryland rushes in. He grabs Thaddeus’s arm, trying to stop him. Thaddeus backhands him so hard, Ryland crashes into the wall.
Thaddeus hauls me to his chest, arms locking around me like steel.
Orion lunges. Thaddeus growls—deep, low, primal. The lights flicker, the air turning static, thick. It’s like the house is alive and angry with him.
“Thaddeus!” Orion shouts, but it’s too late.
White-hot pain tears through my arm. I scream—my skin feels like it’s melting. His grip brands me like fire.
Orion tackles him, and I’m flung across the room, landing hard. My head smacks the ground so hard, the world flickers, spots exploding behind my eyes. I feel warm blood drip down my temple.
I sit up on shaky arms, clutching my head. My vision swims.
My fingers come away sticky with blood. Then everything tilts.
I hear Orion shouting—I can’t make out the words. They’re underwater. Everything is so loud, then too quiet. All I can focus on is the pounding in my skull and the rush of darkness crawling in from the edges of my vision.
And then—nothing.
- Writer
