Slowburn | Enemies to lovers | dark romance | false prophets | Space Opera | triangle | strong femme characters | eventual Romance | Eventual smut |
A desperate Baron.
A yearning Duke.
A woman who weaves destruction with an army of fire.
In the m...
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Collette was sitting on the edge of a throne composed of glass when Hawk strode into the chamber. It was not the type of furniture Hawk suspected to see in the palace - Too fragile, weak, easily destructible. It looked as if it had been carved only for the Duchess and she lazed upon it well.
There was stark discomfort that came with inhabiting Collette's quarters. The only relation to Moss within the bannered four walls was an indent on the bed that looked male-shaped. Still, it was merely the ghost of his form, as if he hadn't slept upon the duvet for some time and neither had she. Perhaps, she didn't want to wake in the night to the linger of his scent in her holy temple. The throne appeared a fine place for her to rest.
"You called for me?" Hawk asked, dipping her head. She made a point to not make it look too much of a bow.
There were more than a few questions that ached to fall from Hawks lips. The majority of them had to do with the plane crash, but not all. A sinking feeling like everyone else knew what she did not held her feet to the stone slabs. Swimming in the abyss, looking for a life raft, each rescuer wielding a knife.
"Hawk Devodzanum," Collette mused, "you saw."
Hawk eyed the corners of the room, they seemed to shift as the moon altered her position outside. She blinked, slowly, pulling the edges of a sillouhette into focus.
"Saw what?" She asked.
"What you weren't ready to see," Collette mused, "Did it frighten you?"
Hawk recalled the image of the red-eyed boy. He crawled into her mind, mouth agape, arrows in his chest. His gurgles resounded over the walls and filled her ears, ringing, pained, raw. Hawk hadn't been standing close enough to hear the last breaths, but she listened to them with Collette's gaze trained on her. Memories fed.
"Stop!" Hawk ordered. It was the first word in a list of commands she wanted to make. Get out of my head, would have followed shortly behind.
Collette opened her mouth and Oliver's words came out, "Grummon's best kept secret."
"You tried to kill me?" Hawk asked. It was no longer a question that sought for confirmation. A plea, she thought, a why?
"No," Collette folded her hands, "you weren't ready yet. I'm not cruel."
Hawk did not feel many sincere emotions, but she doubted that very much. "You're training me then? You tell me to heed your orders to watch fate unfold. I stand back, I watch, I kill a man and witness three more die. You know all, I know nothing. I would like to gut your eyes from your skull and place them in my sockets. Then perhaps, I would see."
