Descent (Fated Book 2) Page 3

  “Why won’t you help me?” I ask, prying my eyes open and blinking away the ghostly fog that had taken over a few minutes ago.

  “I can’t,” he states but I hear the lie in his tone. These are the moments I can practically feel his deceptions coating the both of us, drowning us in whatever disaster he’s trying to avoid. We already have these unexplainable moments between us, the way that his eyes ghost over with mine even though they shouldn’t be able to. Or in the way we’re enigmatically drawn to each other for unknown reasons.

  “Lies,” I spit out as the anger begins slowly boiling in the pit of my stomach.

  Nathanial’s head drops in annoyance before he lifts it to meet my hard gaze once again. “I can’t give you what you need, Stella.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I reply, feeling the rage lace my voice as my heart rate kicks up between us. It’s strange, sometimes these angry moments, when we fight and argue, turn into a heated foreplay that leaves us both panting with white eyes and irritated rejections.

  “Give me something, anything, Nathanial. Please, I’m begging you,” the words slip from my mouth and I hate every single one of them. Because we’re here again, in this singular moment where I beg and plead for him and he pushes me away.

  Only this time he pauses, his eyes raking across my body in an intense motion as he considers what I’m asking him for. It’s nothing new, it’s the same question I always ask of him.

  Suddenly, his hand darts forward and grips my jaw tightly, his fingers bite into my flesh as he holds me roughly against the wall. In a split second my eyes have ghosted and so have his. We lose ourselves in each other and I instantly feel my hunger feeding from our tension. A small, absent smile slips across my lips as I arch my back and push myself in to his grasp.

  “More,” I beg, and he launches forward, his large body hovering over my smaller frame. Our chests are pressed tightly together and my hard nipples brush against his shirt with each rapid breath I take. His other hand slips into my long hair as he grips it firmly, turning my head to the side and maintaining his control over our encounter.

  A soft moan leaves my lips as his face closes in on me. He drags his nose down my cheek and across my jaw, breathing me in and feeding me his strength. It’s the most satisfied I’ve felt since my last night with Danner, the most I’ve ever been given and he’s hardly giving me anything.

  “Nathanial,” I whimper as his lips graze across my neck and down the expanse of my shoulder. My skin is erupting in goosebumps while fire builds and blazes in my blood. His long fingers and strong hold wrap around the base of my jaw in a grip that both claims me and demands submission.

  God, do I want to submit to him.

  In every other area of my life, I fight to be in control. I’ve become more and more independent since being on my own when Luna and I moved into separate apartments. But I lived every moment in calculation, inside my own space of safety and responsibility.

  Now though, I’ve found freedom in risking everything for a few moments of pleasure. That’s what I do now, risk the thin and fragile connection Nathanial and I have for this small moment I could never erase from my mind. I’m breathing easily again for the first time in months. I didn’t even realize how much pain, how uncomfortable, I’ve been in comparison to how I feel now.

  How did I miss this?

  Nathanial’s lips coast back up my neck, grazing my skin in the shallowest of touches. His hot and heavy breath blows across me and wets my flesh in arousal. I shift to turn my face towards him and move closer to his lips, hoping to take his mouth with my own. But he immediately releases me, breaking the frenzied moment we’d fallen into as he moves back and rises to a stand.

  “Never again, Stella,” his voice is impassive. He sounds bitter and while I’m slightly more satisfied than I’ve been in months, the destructive pain of his words tears through my body and racks my mind. I close my eyes in hatred, maybe even self-loathing, refusing to look at him and seeing the regret he has at being this close to me.

  “You fight Danner off tonight and every night he shows up until we figure out a way to get rid of him completely. But I can’t help you. Don’t mistake my pity for affection.”

  It’s those last words that crack the frail façade I’ve forced around myself in protection. I feel the tears spill through my lashes and coat my cheeks as I wrap my arms tightly around my chest. A cold and disconnected smile lifts my lips as I taste the salty trails that fall over my jaw and down my neck.

  “I hate you, Nathanial,” I bite out, keeping my eyes shut and forcing everything inside of me to reject him. I inwardly work to disconnect the strange loyalty I feel for us. I’m drawn to him without any cause and he’s made it clear time and time again that he doesn’t feel that way towards me.

  It’s time I let him go and stop hoping that he’ll somehow become my Savior. He’s an Angel, sure. But he’s Fallen, and I’m the Demon he wants nothing to do with.

  Stella and I drive home in silence. Her head leans against the glass window and her eyes have fallen shut. She’s not sleeping, but she’d like me to believe she is. I maintain a safe distance from her, intentionally choosing not to glance her way every few minutes, even if I want to.

  This is how it has to be. She has to believe I want nothing to do with her, she has to believe I hold some sort of distaste towards her. I can’t leave any room for misinterpretation. I already know that I took things too far tonight. I should have never given into her demands. I shouldn’t have told her I hated seeing her with someone else, but I do.

  It breeds room for corruption. Touching her at all is a constant reminder of what we have together, something she doesn’t quite understand yet. But I knew it the moment I met her.

  Stella is my Fated. That fact alone has thrown everything I had planned for my life off track. I was supposed to rule over our Fallen race until Elijah was ready to take over himself. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready. But now that he has Luna, things have begun changing. His mind is slowly growing to accept the idea he and Luna may be a good fit for the throne. He knows I’d give it up in a heartbeat if he was ready, we’ve had the discussion countless times over the years.

  But no one knows what it would mean if I ever bonded with my Fated. It’s my closest, darkest secret and one I will go to the grave with. Accepting Stella as my bonded mate would be dooming us to a life neither of us would be able to live with. She would be miserable, as would I. And unfortunately, there are no loopholes out of it.

  I made a deal a long time ago. Trade my Fated bond for the life of a Fallen. At the time, Fated couples hadn’t emerged for decades. I didn’t think there was the slightest chance of finding my mate.

  And then Stella waltzed into my life, her colors shining brighter than anything I had ever experienced. Her soft, pink lips pouting in the perfect scowl as her small body slammed into mine. That fiery red hair, bouncing and curling in a chaotic mess that I wanted to pull around my fist. Her curves, God, her fucking curves call to me in an impeccable temptation of sexual destruction.

  How do I continue hurting the one person who was created exactly for me? She’s flawless. In every single sense of the word. Even her smart and sarcastic mouth makes my cock twitch and heats my blood.

  And it’s getting worse. I feel it grow the longer we are living so near each other, sleeping just feet away from each other in the same house. It’s the Fated connection calling, pulling, dragging us together, but the longer we don’t give it what it needs, the more destructive her and I become with each other.

  We fight. All the damn time, over shit that shouldn’t matter. Her emotions run rampant already with her being a newly developed Succubus, but mine mirror hers in a toxic way, growing and morphing into something darker and crueler than I’ve ever intended. I don’t understand it entirely, but I know the longer we stay together without bonding, the worse we’re going to be for each other. But it’s not possible, so I shamelessly damage her, inflicting hurt and pain on
the one person I want to save.

  It doesn’t help that I listen to her fight off Danner every single fucking night. I sit in the back of her mind, inconspicuous to either of them, a third person in their private nightmare. I wait, tense and ready to step in if she isn’t strong enough to push him away. But it’s torture, pure unaltered pain that soaks my blood and screams through my mind as I watch them.

  She thinks I’ve completely forsaken her. I choose to let her believe it. But I could never, even if I can’t bond her, even though I can never have her. I will always protect her and place her above everything else.

  So, I gave her a little piece of me tonight. Fed her the tiniest bit I could manage. But I also gave something away that was far more important. I gave her the knowledge that I could actually satisfy her. I revealed the fact that Danner isn’t the only person who can give her what she needs.

  That piece of shit doesn’t own her, and it’s been breaking me to not blatantly tell her she can find someone else. Fuck, half of me needs her to find another Incubus to feed from, but the other half of me demands that it’s only me she comes to.

  I’m constantly at war with myself. Do I reveal my true nature to everyone around me in order to selfishly take her as my own? No. I can’t. Because in sustaining her needs, I simultaneously hurt her by giving in.

  So I continue this toxic cycle of pushing her away and then selfishly dragging her back. I deliberately hurt my Fated in order to keep her safe. But every second of if chips away at my sanity. I don’t know how much longer I can do this to her before I give in to us completely.

  And that would unleash an entirely new complication.

  “Out,” I say harshly as we park in front of the small mansion Elijah and I recently acquired. Stella complies silently, opening the door to my G-Wagon and stepping out into the chilly night air.

  We both walk to the wide door in continued bitter silence. I unlock it and allow her to step in ahead of me. “Take two Advil, drink a full glass of water, and go to bed Stella.” I shut the door quietly behind us as she walks to the circular staircase on the left. The bannister is large and white, framing the path in grand, mock angelic beauty.

  “Yes, daddy,” she scoffs.

  “You know how I feel about that term,” I remind her as annoyance bubbles in my throat.

  “Then stop acting like one.”

  “Gladly, when you stop acting like a fucking child.” I casually slide my hands into the pockets of my slacks and meet her hard gaze over her shoulder.

  She parts her lips to respond, no doubt in another sarcastic retort, but I watch as resolve slides over her features and she simply turns away. She leaves the room calmly and doesn’t turn around to look at me again.

  So, she doesn’t see that my eyes stay glued to her as she leaves. She doesn’t notice the pain pulling at my features or the scowl on my lips. She doesn’t know that I hate doing this to her.

  Just as it should be.

  “You know, someone once told me I was a fucking idiot for pushing my Fated away for so long.” Elijah’s hard voice breaks the silence and I whip my head around to find him resting on the black leather couch in our front sitting room. His jean clad leg is crossed loosely over the other. His black Henley pulls tight across his arms as his tattooed hand rests against his knee, holding a small tumbler of what I assume is whiskey.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say quietly as I move to the bar tucked in the back of the room. I pull a small glass out and fill it with bourbon for myself.

  “You honestly think I’m that stupid?” he asks as he takes a sip of his drink.

  “I truly think that you do not know what you’re talking about. You have no idea what I’m doing with Stella.” I step back to the couch, coming to stand directly in front of him as we both drink in the quiet darkness.

  “So, you do believe Stella’s your Fated?” he seeks confirmation. He knows me too well not to have noticed our strange interactions.

  I scoff, “Brother, I’ve known she was my Fated far before you ever accepted Luna as yours.”

  “Then what is the fucking issue? Is it because she’s a Succubus? As her Fated, as someone who was created specifically for her, you should be able to sustain her needs.” Elijah laughs to himself for a moment. “Unless you can’t. Maybe that’s the problem, you simply can’t give her what she desires.”

  A low growl climbs up my throat at his taunting accusation. As if I wouldn’t be able to provide for her, satisfy her in the ways she requires. He has no fucking idea what I can do for her. But no one knows the truth, and not even Elijah would understand. So, I force the anger back down and grind my teeth together before answering.

  “Sure, go head and believe what you wish.”

  “Well then, that settles it. I’ve already found another Incubus who is willing to help Stella feed and regain her strength for her nights with Danner.”

  My head whips towards Elijah as a furious rage rushes through me.

  He’s been looking for another Incubus?

  “What the hell did you just say?” I bite out, taking a step toward his disinterested form, casually drinking his whisky as if he didn’t just tear a limb straight from my body.

  “You heard me. She needs to feed, Nathanial. You can’t be selfish enough to deny her needs when you can’t provide them. It’s simple, really. Stella will starve without another Incubus. Danner will eventually need to fulfill her, unless we find someone else. I’m not putting Luna in danger when that happens. Don’t worry, you know him. He’s a friend of ours.” Elijah throws back the last of his whisky and stands in front of me, his chest coming to press against mine in his defiant show of dominance. He should know better than to step in between me and my Fated.

  “Who the fuck is it?” I growl, our noses practically touching as anger billows around me.

  “Leon.” He steps to the side, intentionally cutting our conversation short.

  Fucking Leon. An Incubus who recently started working at the Capital with us. There are some Demons who don’t believe in the war between our races, Leon is one of them and chooses to fight on our side of the battle. He specializes in weaponry and training. He’s good, really fucking good actually, and is the top trainer amongst our people.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. He doesn’t have time to take on Stella as a project. She’ll be far too much work,” I explain away the reasons why this wouldn’t be feasible, but in actuality I’m panicking on the inside. Because Leon would do this, and Stella would take him. This would totally work between them, and I will have to sit back and watch it happen.

  Elijah laughs, a true, guttural laugh that tears into me with mockery. “Sex is never too much work, brother. I’m surprised you gave that excuse any validity.” He slaps his hand on my shoulder and walks out of the room, shaking his head as he continues scoffing at my expense.

  Mother fucker.

  “A project, huh?” Stella’s voice harshly bites out from the top of the staircase and immediately, my gut fills with dread.

  “Stella,” I sigh. “How long have you been listening?”

  “Long enough to know I’m just a burden not worth dumping on anyone,” she answers, and the eerie calm to her voice grates over me. She’s separating herself from me, placing walls and barriers between us. I hate every moment knowing she’s doing the right thing.

  I pause, forcing the words to claw out of my mouth as I speak them. “I simply think Leon has many other responsibilities that take priority, but Elijah’s right. He would be a good fit for you. You could learn a lot from him, and you need your strength.”

  The statement feels like gravel in my throat, but I say it anyway, making sure she has absolutely no reason to seek anything else from me. Ensuring that we will never have anything monumental between us in our lifetime.

  My eyes stay glued to Nathanial as he stands below me. His shoulders are relaxed, ease and affluence radiate from his loose form as if he’s stating nothing of im
portance. Like he didn’t just tell me to move on with someone else. As though he isn’t showing me exactly how much he doesn’t care.

  Tears prick my eyes and threaten to reappear, but I force them back. I refuse to show him anything more than he’s giving me. I’m done trying to gain his affection. I’m exhausted looking to him for some semblance of hope when he refuses to give it to me. I feel like we should be more than this. More than this weak moment of pain and dismissal.

  “All right set up the meeting,” I state flatly. I brush my hands down the front of the silky shorts I changed into before frustration and annoyance had gotten the better of me. I decided to come back down here and confront Nathanial when I caught the tail end of his conversation with Elijah.

  If he was lying, then he was lying to his brother as well, and that seems a little more difficult to believe. Which leaves me wondering if I’ve had it wrong all along. Maybe he truly does feel nothing for me, maybe I’m the one who was blinded by his strong jaw and handsome features. Maybe this was just a normal crush that I childishly let grow into something more without it ever being reciprocated.

  I turn on my heels and move back down the hallway to my room, leaving Nathanial in the darkness below. Tonight, when Danner comes to me in my dreams, I’ll fight him off on my own with the strength I absorbed from Nathanial, and then when it comes time to feed again, I’ll have someone new. Someone who will willingly help me understand my true nature.

  Suddenly, the soft cries of Amelia drift down the hall. It has to be close to three in the morning at this point and I can only assume Danner is visiting her while I’m still awake. I slowly step past my room and stop in front of her door, pressing my ear in order to make sure she’s okay. We don’t get along, no one does with Amelia. But I would never wish Danner’s nightmares on anyone.

  “I’m sorry,” she cries, and I slowly twist the doorknob to check on her. The lights are off, and I see her hands twisting in the sheets as her head thrashes back and forth. “I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again,” she repeats, her voice growing more frantic with each word.