Hades Sent : Book One of the Sent Series, page 16
“Good. Now, let me out.” I scoot back to reach for the door handle. Time is ticking and Ireland might already be awake.
Faith reaches for me and grabs my arm. My eyes drift downward and I struggle to keep from snatching her hand off. She doesn’t know when to stop. My mind snaps to attention, desperate for thoughts. I bite my lip to fight it.
This girl gave me the box so I have no reason not to trust her. Still, I’ve got to get out of here before I hurt her or her father.
Faith clears her throat. “You are not as cold as I thought you would be. I’ve seen you before and the Greve I’ve seen in the past is not the Greve I see now. You might have changed Ireland, but she’s changed you, too.”
Our eyes meet for a second before I nod. She’s right, but can I make myself remember? Will I be able to remember what’s true and fair when the time is right?
The car stops long enough for me to climb out. Faith waves at me before pulling off, out of sight.
Nighttime has now fallen and the city lights cast shadows on the buildings in front of me. The club crowds and bar hoppers are starting to emerge. It won’t be long until the streets are filled with the kind of evil I crave. All the more reason to get back to Ireland.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ireland
When I wake, I think of only one thing. The pain. My back feels icy cold even though fire surrounds me. A deep throb runs through my spine as I try to move around. It feels as though my flesh is being ripped apart. I shudder to think that maybe it actually has been ripped apart. And by my mother, nonetheless.
What happened comes back to me in sequences. Her nails slicing down my back, leaving gaping holes and sores. My mind bursting with resistance as my mother beat me from the inside out.
Even now, my thoughts are sluggish. How could a mother be so cruel? But then I hear myself laughing. She’s a damn demon. How else should I expect her to be?
My veins burn as her poison finds its way through me. She’s taking over my body and my mind and there’s nothing I can do about it. One look around the room proves that I am truly alone. Greve’s house stands empty. He’s forgotten me. My mother despises me. My father is better off without ever having me in his life.
Jade was right when she said I would wake in pain. But I never expected that it would hurt this much.
~~*~~
Greve’s eyes meet mine the next time I wake. Instead of pain, I feel numb. Actually, I feel dead. I’m dead inside. The pain is still there, though. It comes in waves, sloshing in and out of my muscles and nerves. Her poison is still busy, making sure the angel part dies forever.
“You’re awake,” Greve whispers. His voice breaks me from my thoughts.
“And you were gone,” I answer, remembering the first time I woke up.
Greve looks at me uneasy. “Only for a while. I went to get your box back.”
“Box?” The memory barely comes to me. Oh yes. The box was given to me up there. It’s supposed to help me somehow. “It’s too late for all that now. I don’t want it.”
Greve looks at me for a second, as if trying to decide what to say. “Then I will put it away until you do want it.”
“Might as well throw it out,” I mutter while flexing my arms and legs. My body is tense. My nerves feel on edge. Everything is off balanced.
Greve leaves for a minute to put the box where he thinks I won’t find it and then returns with a towel. “Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed. Then we can decide what to do next.”
One glance at the towel reminds me of water. And that’s something I don’t want. My body shivers at the thought. Only … water used to not bother me at all. Am I really that far unbalanced that water will hurt me?
I realize I must be because otherwise, water has no effect on me. This, of course, is what Mother wanted all along. I am becoming her in all aspects. The scary part is that I no longer care if that happens. The part of my brain that is responsible for making rational decisions is being overrun by her poison. I can feel it.
“The fire is dying,” Greve points out in my silence.
Flames that used to cover me are now only smoking embers. My throat clenches. Fire. I’ve got to have fire.
Greve sees my reaction and raises his eyebrows at me. “It’s okay. I need it to. Get out and I will work on it.” He throws me the towel.
I catch it in one swift motion before it touches the embers. My legs protest the feeling of crawling as I make my way out of the fireplace. Ash and soot cover me from head to toe. It’s everywhere. But even though I am covered, I still feel my face grow hot due to the sudden realization that I am naked.
Greve doesn’t seem to notice how embarrassed I am. He bends over to tend to the fire, not caring that the girl beside him is naked.
A growl escapes my lips and it takes a moment for me to realize I am the one making the noise. That all too familiar feeling of heat and anger rushes through me and I don’t know why. He doesn’t notice me. That is stupid to think. I didn’t want him to notice me a couple of seconds ago. Why does it matter now? Of all things to think about, Greve noticing me and my body shouldn’t be high on the list.
Before I can even think about what I am doing, I clear my throat to get his attention. He should desire to be with me. Greve should want me.
He spins his head around and gives me a troubling look. “You’re not in the shower,” he says more of a statement than a question.
“Nope. That’s because you aren’t in there either,” I hear myself respond. What am I doing?
Greve coughs. “Hmm … What?”
My legs move without my mind giving consent. It’s like I’m being controlled by an outside force. My toes struggle to stop my feet from moving farther. Regardless of how much I try, Greve now stands directly in front of me.
My hand gravitates toward his face. “You should want me, but you don’t.”
Greve stands still, piecing together my words. His eyes grow wide when he finally connects the pieces. “I can assure you that is not a problem.” His eyes grow red. “But, Ireland, your mind is going to gravitate toward sin. We will not be a byproduct of what your mother’s poison is making you do or think.”
Deep down I am thankful for his words. There’s still a part of me the poison hasn’t reached yet and I credit that with being why I feel slightly thankful for what he just said. Greve is right. My body and my mind are gravitating toward sin and the temptation is almost too strong for me to fight.
Greve takes my silence as a win because he wraps the towel around me. His hand touches the small of my back and that brings back instant thoughts of lust. Thoughts of him kissing my lips come through the entire muddle inside me. In this moment, my mind is focused on him and only him. Nothing else matters. I’m hungry. Starving, in fact because my body is so unbalanced. My body needs the sin in order to keep my demon counterpart in control.
“Help me,” I pull the words out of me before throwing myself on top of him. Lust. Need. Temptation. Embarrassment. Shame. All these feelings pour out of me as my lips touch his. Greve returns the kiss and for one blissful moment, we connect in want and need. Heat traps inside my head as the demon part of me becomes satisfied.
My mouth runs along his neck. The scent of him evades my senses until I reach his chest. I stop to catch my breath and that’s when he pulls me away.
Greve’s hands wrap around my elbows in effort to keep me off. “You are making this difficult,” he murmurs under his breath. “How can I help you when you keep tempting me?”
“I … I don’t know what’s happening.” My mouth lets out a whimper. So many thoughts. So many feelings. My mind is in information overload.
“I’m dizzy,” I hear myself saying as the room starts to sway. My face grows hot. My mouth becomes dry. A sharp pain starts in my toes and slowly moves up until it reaches my head.
Greve rushes to get behind me as my head falls toward the floor. He catches me in time so that my head lands on his shoulder. I see him move me, but I can’t feel him. I can’t feel anything.
My body sways in Greve’s arms as he heads toward the bathroom. The swaying motion makes me nauseous. That spirals into me becoming sick all over the floor. Whatever this is will be the death of me.
“You are going to live,” Greve speaks to me. “Thank god you are only part demon. The angel part of you does not want to let go.”
What if it does let go completely? I want to ask. What if I can’t fight any longer?
“I’m losing,” I say, my voice trembling. “It’s losing,” I clarify referring to my angel self. And just to make sure my angel side knows it is losing, the demon side multiplies the pain.
Searing pain pulses at my temples. The ceiling light burns my eyes. Greve’s footsteps echo across the floor. My eyes flash to the familiar bathtub and my stomach roils.
The poison screams inside me. It doesn’t want the water. My body begins to thrash against Greve, hoping to get away for what is about to come.
“You are about to be fully controlled by the poison. I may kill myself in an effort to keep you alive, but that’s the risk I’m going to have to take.”
Greve takes me with him into the bathtub. My body presses up against his as Greve gets ready to turn on the faucet. He takes my arms in his hands and secures them in place. Then gently he starts the water trickle.
First, my ears hear the noise. A slow gushing sound travels through the pipes, forcing the water out. Then my eyes see the droplets falling down toward my feet.
My heart hammers in my ears. Time slows before me as my lungs try to keep up with the forced breathing inside me. I am terrified.
One droplet connects with my flesh as it slowly trickles down my foot. My skin sizzles against the cool touch. Soon, the room is filled with my screams.
“You’re okay,” Greve whispers in my ear. “Everything is going to be fine.”
He tries to convince me that his actions are necessary. The water is the only way to get rid of the unbalance. No matter what he says, it’s not enough.
I’m not convinced.
I will die if he turns the water up. “Going to die!” I proclaim in thoughts and rambles.
“No,” Greve responds, voice firm. “Not while I’m here.”
“You can’t control it. You can’t control her!” My eyes have the sensation of forming tears, but they do not fall. Instead, they burn worse than before.
“I’m getting rid of your mother’s influence,” Greve says. He reaches over and turns the faucet on full blast. Water flows everywhere. It covers my legs and feet and starts to flow toward Greve.
Greve hisses as soon as the water comes in contact with his skin. It soaks through his pants and is rising toward me.
“Don’t,” I mumble while the pain takes me places I’ve never experienced before. In heaven, I am immortal. On Earth, the immortality fades. But as an imbalanced angel, death can come all too quickly.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ireland
My eyes flutter open only to see that I am still floating in water. I blacked out. That’s the only explanation. The pain was too much for me, so my body did the only thing possible—it shut itself off from everything.
Greve breathes into my ear with rugged, pained sounds. His arms no longer hold me in. They are still, in the water that used to be clear.
Now, the tub is filled with a foamy black substance. It floats to the surface, as if it’s struggling to keep itself separated from the pure water below.
Must be the poison. Oh god. That’s what was inside of me! The foam pops and moves of its own accord, struggling to stay together as one big mass on top of the water.
If it can, it will find a way back inside me. I can’t let that happen. If it gets back inside me, there will be no going back. I couldn’t get lucky twice.
My body shudders from weakness, but also from just thinking about what happened. The pain was something I could never experience again. Of that I am sure. And not to mention the fact that it was controlling me.
What happened comes back in bits and pieces. The sensation of being pulled a million different directions and I had no way of stopping it. My mother tried to kill me on the inside so that she can take me over on the outside. All it would take would be for me to break. For my body to go so weak that she would have no problem using me and abusing me even worse than what she’s already has.
And then the way Greve fought me in order to save me … those moments hit me straight in the chest. If it wasn’t for him, I would be a shell. Or I would be dead. The guy I was supposed to put in jail … the guy I was charged with stopping … saved me. Greve is complex that much is true. But he has changed in such a way that I didn’t even think was possible.
He is not the arrogant, heartless boy he likes to portray himself to be. Greve and I are one and the same. We are the by-products of our demon parents. We struggle with the reality of what that means. Greve and I are stronger than what our parents have planned for us.
Greve begins to cough in my ear. The noise brings me back to the situation at hand. We are in a tub filled with my mother’s venom. The venom almost turned me. It almost killed the real me. Thanks to Greve, I can think straight again.
I rise up out of the water, hoping to have enough strength to maneuver Greve out with me. He can’t stay in here and neither can I.
His coughing gets worse. His breathing is slowing. I’ve got to act fast because I don’t know what shape he will be in when he wakes.
Holding his arms, I pull him into a sitting position. My body aches in protest. It’s been through too much and it’s not willing to do more than what is required.
I blow out a sigh of concentration. I’m weak, but I’m not useless. He will come out with me. He’s got to get by the fire and dried off so that he can begin to heal.
“All because of me,” I say looking into his face. “You passed out because you were holding onto me. I’m not leaving you here.”
I go behind his back and push up, hoping for better results. Greve’s body leans over the edge of the tub just enough so that I can pull him out on the other side. One more pull and his body topples over the side and onto the bathroom floor.
I cut the water off from the faucet source, which is something I should have done the moment I woke up. Water is everywhere. It covers the bathroom floor, making puddles all the way into part of the living room and kitchen.
I should feel something because I’m still standing in water. Pain or dizziness or even nausea. My body has stopped having reactions to the water. That’s a good sign that all the poison is out of me.
Taking Greve by the arms, we scoot across the water to the part of the apartment that is dry. The fire still burns in the hearth which is something close to a miracle. “Finally something goes right,” I mutter under my breath.
He’s got to get dry and he’s got to get warm. Those are my main two concerns. Forget me. As long as Greve is all right, then I will be. I will find a way to be okay.
I place him by the fire and prepare myself for the next task at hand. My heart hammers in my chest. Sweat drips off my forehead and it feels like butterflies are dancing in my stomach. His clothes have to come off.
“Just do it,” I say out loud. He’s already seen me so what’s the big deal? Plus, I’m still sitting here naked. So much for modesty. Modesty went out the window a long time ago.
My hand brushes against his face before I decide I will just have to get over this whole thing. I was trying to throw myself at him because of the imbalance, and now I can’t imagine seeing him that way. I hate this. I hate all of this and how she is trying to control me.
“The hell with it …” I mutter in frustration. My hands take what’s left of his shirt and pull until the fabric comes apart. Sounds of clothing tearing fill the air until Greve is shirtless in front of me. Next comes the pants.
Okay. I will have to do this too. Biting my lip, I work on the button of his jeans. It comes loose so that I can slide the jeans all the way off. Now, all that’s left is his boxers.
Right. Okay. Do they really have to come off? I mean … he’ll be all right if I just push him closer to the fire …
No. They have to be removed, too. Not one single drop of water can remain on his skin. I can’t be a wuss. He’s risked so much for me. It’s time I do something for him.
Making a noise between a sigh and a cough, my fingers touch the edge of the fabric and pull down. My gaze wanders away from his body. I won’t look at him. Not in that way, and not when he’s unconscious.
When the boxers slide off, I take that as the perfect opportunity to snatch a blanket and cover him as quickly as possible. The blanket comes to the middle of his stomach and covers all the things my eyes are telling me not to see.
I find the clothes nearest to me that will fit. Black pants and a silver t-shirt are the closest, so it’s an easy decision.
Now that his clothes are taken care of, I can rest a little easier. Greve seems to be okay. I seem to be okay. Maybe the worst is over and I can go home. I would want nothing more than to never see my mother again.
After scooting Greve closer to the fire, I lay down beside him. Fatigue sets in after a few minutes and my eyes start to droop. One minute I’m thinking about what’s to come and the next, my eyes close into darkness.
~~*~~
I dream of him. His lips on mine. The way his hands move along the curve of my spine. His lips kiss the outside of my ear and travel down to my throat. Greve presses me close so that I can’t get away. He laughs when I try to wiggle away from his touch.
“Where are you going?” he teases. “You can’t get away from me.”
I shiver when his breath reaches my face. “I don’t think I’m ready to go any farther,” I answer. “Let’s just stay like this.”
Greve smiles at me. “You can’t keep acting like you want more from me and then change your mind. I will have you now.”
“What? What are you talking about?” My words collide into one big question.
“I’m not going to fight off the urge anymore and neither are you. I want you and you want me so …”
