Chapter 8

“        Why are you taking me here?” Ana’s heart pounded through her hand as she spoke. I could feel the steaming blood flushing through her system.

 

         “Hush. All will reveal itself in time.” I barked at her, leading her up to the burned wooden doors that were sealed with a red “X”. I stood still, dread filling my eyes.

 

         “This- this place. You lived here.” She read me like an open book. Was it that obvious? It passed through my mind, the thought of my younger self. I remembered standing here looking up at the victorian style house with the eyes of a child.

 

         “What are you going to do?” I turned to her and grabbed her chin as she ended her sentence.

 

         “Look, Anahera. I don’t want to do this. Something inside me is growing. Not lust but-” I couldn’t expel the words from my mind. Did I really “love” her? I tried to deny it with the strength my father has given me, but alas I am losing the war.

 

         “Tell me, Elliot. What’s eating you alive. What can’t you do?” She shook her head with every word she spoke. I unintentionally snapped.

 

         “Murder. I want to sink my jagged canines into your throat and taste the rich blood pour into my mouth. I want to cut you open and hear the cries of pain leap from your soul. I want to watch you suffer a horrid fate produced by no other than me. I want to end you, Anahera Grace.” I watched her traumatized facial movements immerse her whole body.

 

         “You sick motherfucker.” Anahera turned paler than my father, almost in a dead trance. Her weak legs attempted to carry her away from this scene. Her speed was nothing compared mine, I was already in front of her. She came to a harsh halt.

 

         “There is something else.” I edged her backward into the stone wall of the orphanage. “I saved your life. Do you honestly think if I didn’t have feelings for you, that you would be here right now? I can’t bring myself to hurt you. Hell, the moment I laid eyes on you I fell to pieces!” My  voice was rough, trying to make her see my intentions.

 

         “What are you?” Anahera’s eyes cringed with distaste.

 

         “I am Tievel Wrath. Son of The Devil.” I bored my eyes into the back of her head as my throat rumbled.

 

         “I-I can’t believe it. It’s all true.” She took my hand and rested her other one on the spot where my heart would be. “It’s not too late. I can- I can help you.” I pushed her away and huffed.

 

         “Anahera. What the fuck are you talking about?” Irritation hit me. Am I missing something here? Was there something I did not know?

 

         “I know this will sound like I am insane, but listen. You are not fully changed. I know how this story ends, I have seen it a thousand times before in my dreams. Your father is using you. You are his puppet- His toy. I can see the life in you, and I know this isn’t what you want. You don’t want to kill. You don’t want to be king. You don-” She was in mid sentence when I shouted.

 

         “Shut your fucking mouth! You don’t know what I want! Who are you to tell me my destiny!” I was resenting the thought of my father's betrayal. After all, he made me what I am today. I am royalty. Nobody is going to say otherwise.

 

         “Elliot this isn’t you!” She struggled to control my rage.

 

         “Liar!” I took a swing at her. Thinking all too fast for my mind to process, I saw my hand stop. I looked at it. My eyes were then drawn down to her, she was immortalized by fear. “I am not a violent man.” I dropped my hand and rested against the jagged wall. The cold felt soothing on my blood filled face.

 

         “Please.” I was touched by her whisper. I cocked my head on confusement.

 

         “Please what.” I snarled hideously, wanting to hear the words, I wanted the satisfaction of the truth.

 

         “Trust me.”