LUNA: The Witching Hour

15: Crown Prince

She's been crying. All day. All night.

She would only take a break when her throat burned up, and when her eyes stung. Sometimes she'd cry in front of the window. Sometimes in her bed. Sometimes on the floor. Most of the time inside the bathroom, where she could plunge her whole body into the water. At least tried to persuade herself that Sage was still there beside her if she was near his element.

She would feel them. Different eyes. Watching her from afar. She would know when Midnight had come in her chambers. She would know when Arius squeezed himself between the gap of the door and the floor. She would know when the whole pack would try to check up on her in their own subtle ways.

And she didn't care.

Minutes.

Hours.

Days.

Weeks.

She stopped crying.

Worse.

She stopped feeling.

Stopped sensing.

Stopped identifying.

Stopped thinking.

She had destroyed all the mirrors in her chambers. Hated the color of her hair. Loathed the witch in front of her. Weak. Pathetic. Useless. You killed them all. Killed. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. She had punched the broken shards of the mirror again and again until her knuckles bled, until her lungs collapsed, until her jaw ached, until the pain that pierced her body covered the pain that killed her soul.

Midnight was in her chambers the second after that. "Do you want to die?"

"Get out" She had answered him.

"Do you want to die?"

"Get out"

"Do you want to die?"

The blood in her hands dripped and Midnight could hear every drop of it hitting the floor. "You delight in such things, right? Wrath of the seven deadly sins"

Midnight had only stared at her for long. Holding back. He had gradually closed the distance between them and took her hand with his. He felt the blood on his fingers, sticky and warm. The familiar texture of it had woken something inside him and his senses became sensitive tenfold. Sahar had watched him with cold eyes that mirrored his, and as he took her hand on his lips. She didn't even realize that her lips had slightly parted when she felt her fingers grazed the demon's lips and all she could think at that time was how unexpectedly soft it was beneath her touch. She had stopped breathing for a moment. And Midnight had sensed it. He hadn't denied the fact that it was oddly satisfying to see her having troubles with her own breathing every time he was near her. He had seen how the witch bore her pink eyes at his lips. It had gleamed. Darkened. He hadn't figured the emotion that welled up in her eyes.

But he had known she was going to do it anytime.

He had known.

And yet it still made him react when her middle finger had started caressing his mouth. He had parted them and the witch halted her finger.

The demon had tried to restrain himself but he couldn't. He didn't care what would have happened next, he wanted to do it.

He licked the blood on her finger.

Both bodies had burned from the touch.

Sahar wasn't thinking straight when she let him sucked her finger. She hadn't even known that she was already gripping his dark coat with her other bloodied hand as he twirled his warm tongue around and flicked her finger with a satisfying sound.