Page 10 of Temptation
The tip of the dagger pressed against his throat, followed by the blood trickling as it nicked his skin
“Please,” I murmured, fighting the urge to pull the dagger back. “Please just stay away.”
Instead of stepping back, instead of staying put, Dylan grabbed my hand that was holding the dagger and pressed harder. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, but the sparkle in his eyes never died.
“Do you want to kill me, Little One?” he asked while sadness laced his every word. “Do it. I’ve already bled for you, and I wouldn’t mind dying for you.”
“P-Please,” I begged, but I didn’t know for what. Could I hurt him? Could I kill the boy I loved since I was a little girl?
I knew the answer even before I lowered down my hand and let the dagger drop down on the floor. It fell with the clatter echoing around the otherwise silent room, and as if on a cue, the masked figures started chanting again.
Quietly at first, like the song of a bird in the early morning, slowly waking us up until they picked up their pace, their tempo and started roaring the words I knew.
Those were the words I’d read in that book I found. The words I knew by heart because I’d spent nights agonizing over their meaning and why someone would write them there.
“Servitutis Aeternitas!” Ladies sang in their soprano voices.
“Sanctum Sacrificium!” Gentlemen joined until they both started chanting the same words over and over and over again.
Lauren whimpered behind me, but I couldn’t turn around to check on her. I couldn’t help her because I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t stop staring at Dylan, at this new version of him that I never knew.
Were any of those things he told me true? Or was he just fabricating the stories for me to hear, and like a fool I drank them up, believing everything that came from his malicious mouth?
“Dylan, stop this,” I urged him. “This isn’t you. This,” I pointed toward the rows of people facing us, “isn’t normal.”
“Isn’t it?” He bent down and retrieved the dagger I dropped. Was he going to kill me now? He pressed the tip of the blade against his finger, opening a new wound in the process. His neck still bled from where I cut him, and I fought the urge to press my hands against the wound.
I fought the tears in my eyes and my traitorous soul. I fought the urge to run and the urge to stay, because no matter what, no matter how much my heart tried to jump out of my chest from fear coursing through my veins, I still loved him.
And I hated myself for it.
“This is who I am, Little One.” He wiped the blood from his neck and pressed his fingers against his lips, tasting his blood with closed eyes as if it was pure sugar and not blood coating his hands. “This is who you’re going to be as well.” He looked at me and took a step forward, crowding me. His bloodied fingers pressed against my lips, and I ground my teeth, forcing my lips to stay shut.
“Open, darling,” he murmured to my ear. “Open up for your brother.”
“No—”
As soon as the word came out of my mouth, he pushed his fingers in, hitting my teeth. The coppery taste hit my taste buds, my tongue swimming in the foreign scent as he kept pushing his fingers forward.
As if on cue, my traitorous body betrayed me once again, and my tongue swirled against his fingers, taking in the poison as if it was the cure.
“That’s my good girl,” he purred and grabbed the back of my head, holding me close to him.
I started pushing against him, but he wasn’t budging. My hands flattened against his pecs, but just like a stone wall, Dylan was unmovable.
Curling my fingers, I could feel the bite of my nails on my skin, but I welcomed the pain. Anything was better than thinking about the situation I was in.
The tips of his shoes pressed against my toes, and my body molded to his. I shuddered at the contact, fighting the love I had for him. Fighting with my heart because it still loved him. I still loved my brother.
But my mind… My mind could see things clearly now.
“You’re not a Blackwood.” Kane’s words came back to me, and I wondered what other secrets this forsaken town held.
Which other crimes did they commit, all the while hiding behind their smiling masks?
Who else had to suffer to appease their bloodthirsty nature?
Who had to die to appease the urges this cold-blooded heir in front of me had?
