Sweet Innocence and Gentle Sin || 𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑

Chapter 7: There Are Two Of Us And One Of Them

It's bloody and raw but I swear it is sweet.

~)(~

He was nothing like I expected. He looked like any other High Fae, with pointed ears and no wings to be seen. No wonder I didn't recognize him at first. But now... I could see it. Slightly darker skin, taller than others, with broader shoulders. Not as lengthy and thin as High Fae.

I was expecting a total monster. Some terrifying creature of night that I've been told was more like a scaled beast than a High Fae, with his Illyrian mother's blood coursing through his skin. Some said he had horns, and some said he had high red eye. Others said he was simply a dragon that could speak like a man.

But he was really none of those things.

I finally found my brain again and returned it to my skull. "You're Rhysand?"

"In the flesh," he said, grinning and showing sharp canines. He brushed invisible dust from his black tunic and readjusted the pin on his lapel.

I breathed a laugh and said, "you are..."

"Handsome? Fashionable? Delightfully charming?"

"Unexpected," I finished, taking a deep breath.

He huffed a laugh and said, "that's a new one." I tried to smile, but I think he could see through it.

Azriel shook his head. "Once again, you scare away the girls."

"You're one to talk," I quipped.

Rhysand laughed. "Is Azriel trying to bully someone into liking him again?"

"She tried to kill me," Azriel said with a forced smile.

I shook my head. "Well, Rhysand, I'm sorry for arguing with you before I knew who you were."

"Most don't recognize me. I'm not exactly the scaly type," he said before returning to rub at Azriel's still bleeding temple. He sighed, though, and dropped his hand. "I should find my father. I need some explanations."

"About why I'm here?" I asked.

He nodded. "Exactly why you're here. I don't think your uncle will be very happy about it."

Before he could leave, I said, "lucky for us, he doesn't know."

"He will soon, that's what I'm worried about," he said, before disappearing behind the corner.

I sat in front of Azriel and picked up the discarded cloth, which he watched curiously. "What are you doing?" He asked.

"Helping you... for helping me," I said, softer than I expected or wanted.

"I can help myself."

"I know you can, but I don't care right now," I bit back, grabbing him by the chin and angling his head down so I could better see the damage.

There was a large gash that ran along his hairline. Likely from that punch the soldier gave him. I remember seeing the metal covered fist slide across his head. It wasn't horrible, but it didn't want to stop bleeding. And every time he raised his brows or eyes, the skin stretched enough to reopen some scabs.

There was also a cut on his brow, and one that still bled from his bottom lip. It was the old one from days ago, but it looked like the beatings brought it back. Internally, I wanted to give the person who did this the same treatment. But I didn't know why. I shouldn't care about him that much.