Siren | Caden Archeron

Chapter Seven

i just need someone to hold me

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The next day Stella found herself thinking of him constantly. His mouth, his hands—those gods damned hands...He was like a drug she just couldn't get out of her system. When she wasn't thinking about having him, she was thinking about what she was going to do now that she'd made a decision regarding her mission.

She'd now admitted to herself that she was not going to be able to kill him, it was a fool's errand from the start, even without her feelings complicating matters. But did that mean she should just accept her fate and return home now—face whatever punishment her father had in store? Maybe it would be lesser than if he had to come down here and drag her back himself.

Angry at herself and her feelings, Stella had almost decided that would be the best option—to return to the Hewn City. It would probably make her feel better to spar—to train properly and kick the ass of all the insolent male Darkbringers who thought she wasn't any better than the dirt on the bottom of their shoes. If she was still whole after whatever her failure wrought her that is.

Thoughts of her father ultimately made her hesitate though and she had decided to wait and see if she felt better the following day. She was glad she had—the following morning Stella woke up in agony. Pain lanced through her in sharp, overbearing waves as she curled around herself, holding her abdomen.

"No," she begged whatever gods would listen. "Not now." She brought her knees to her chest, laying on her side as she felt blood run down her thigh. "Fuck," she cursed, tears coming to her eyes. No wonder she'd been so damn emotional. This was going to become incredibly, incredibly unpleasant. She had no supplies—no pain-relieving tonics, no herbs to put in her tea, nothing. She didn't even have the fucking valerian root to help her sleep because the mountains were barren with winter frost.

Wincing, she pulled herself up and hauled her way over toward the bathroom, dragging herself when she couldn't remain on her feet. How could she have miscalculated so badly? She knew it was coming up around this time of the year, she'd simply been so caught up in her mission and the coup and Caden that she hadn't even thought about it.

Stella ran herself a hot bath and plopped her body in it, not caring how the water turned pink—it was the only comfort she could offer herself. Compared to some of the other females, Stella was one of the lucky ones. Her bleed usually only lasted for five days as opposed to a whole week, so at least her agony would be slightly shortened.

She was probably in trouble here. Usually she'd have the maids to call on at home—here she was almost out of food and had no way of getting down to the grocer to procure more. She didn't dare return to the Hewn City now though, not in this vulnerable state, unable to defend herself when her father realised she still hadn't managed to carry out his orders.

This put all other decisions she had to make on hold, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. On one hand, she was dreading the moment her father chased her down, demanding to know why she wasn't already home having succeeded in her mission. She was almost surprised he hadn't shown up already, though she put that down to him realising what a suicidal task he'd given her along with being busy taking over Keir's duties.

On the other hand, she didn't want to hand herself over on a silver platter either. Stella could admit to herself that her desperate sense of self-preservation was warring within her, trying to find another way out of this where she didn't have to suffer the consequences at the hands of either side in this conflict.