By Corruption I Fall

Chapter Thirteen

Oryon

Pretentious and spoiled, That's who the heiress was.

Born out of a golden cradle, subject to not a single troubling experience.   Even the way she walked spoke of a naive attention-seeking girl.

They say that knowledge is power, indeed.

I had the upper-hand here, I would not have involved myself If I had even the slightest suspicion That I would lose.

I stalked torward the garage of the Kaleolani mansion  I  was owner of, I heard almost all of my brothers rough-house and demand more alcohol. If I had the slightest intrest in being a complainer, I would complain on how there was never silence being in these walls. I

should not even want silence, I should be wanting to party and fuck untill I can't anymore. Being in the barracks, freezing my limbs off, the only blanket were the horrifying screams of the other boys with me, Being burned or being stabbed, or whatever petrifying punishment the thing had for us.

He was born with a name,  not in my brain.

If I wanted to retain the peace Delin had taught me when I was in prison then the man that took me would remain a thing.

Stepping my leg over my Harley, I slid the key in the ignition and turned on the fuel petcock. I made sure the Kill switch was set to run, set the gear shift in neutral, and squeezed the motorcycle lever with my left hand all the way to the grip.

Pressing the start button with my right thumb, the motorcycle came to life.

The art of riding always earned me a smile on my lack-luster face,  I closed my eyes and leaned over to open the garage door. The door touched the roof and my vision distorted.

A memory, a chance, a chase. The image of her bounding away—pristine naked skin glowing in the moonlight and long hair flowing like black silk—played like the harp she controlled, inside my head.

After so many beatings, My libido had been thrown off or turned off.  The PTSD as the psychiatrist put caused a backlash on my normal human tendencies.

No, lady, It fucked me up to a point of no reparations.  That's why I thanked Delin and walked away from those appointments.  It was useless, There was no use in fixing the broken.

I gradually pushed the choke, the engine telling me it was ready to go.  I opened my eyes, saw orbs of everything I'd been prepared for—every argument, every hardship I'd been drilled to expect—hadn't prepared me for the complication that was Xiomara Arquilla.

How could I understand and keep my bearings when the woman had more personalities than a mythological God?

Sometimes naïve. Sometimes coy. Smart, fearful, proud, gullible. I knew what I saw, a boy I was- I understood that the girl in white was no angel.She had been evolving into the likes of her familyAnd rapidly. She was trained for this, to sweep men off her feet for more cash in their corpse-scented pockets. But I wasn't a man dying to stick my cock in her. She was not even my type. I craved curvier girls, with meat on their bones, not these diet-induced leggy Europeans.

Bullshit, admit it.

You hated seeing her flirting with that Italian bastard. You hated all the starving eyes on her.

I balled my hands. No, I wouldn't admit it. I would never verbalize the slow burn of possession in my gut or the confusion in my mind when it came to understanding her.