Veronica's Fallacy

27.

-HER-

It was the second time I woke up and found myself in Grim's bed. Instead of panicking like yesterday, I took time to get out of it and do my morning business. When I stepped out of his bathroom, he was still nowhere to be seen.

I found it strange. I snuck out of his room as quietly as a mouse and stood in the hallways. Still no sign of him, so I decided to look around. Despite the dangerous date last night, I was feeling better than yesterday, even in a better mood. I should've been terrified and seeking answers, but I was in the mood for an adventure instead. So I went around looking at the rest of Grim's house.

The floor plan was pretty simple. It had a vast open area with huge glasses framing the city underneath. The kitchen was on the other side of the open area.

On one end of the hallway was his office, whose door was locked, and the other was his bedroom and a couple more rooms that were mostly empty. There was the gallery that led to the stairs. I stood there and stared at the paintings.

They were undoubtedly old, depicting several scenes of war. There were five paintings, all of which depicted individual characters. The first one was a woman in bloody armour, surrounded by skulls. The woman's blood-red eyes were what struck me. They looked lifelike, lethal and bloodthirsty. I shuddered and moved on to the next painting.

It was of a commander leading an army of the fallen wolves. The commander's face was stern, and his piercing, solemn eye challenged the onlooker.

Then, I moved on to the next painting. It was of a warrior standing tall, surrounded by dead bodies, facing a massive army. It was the only painting where the warrior had his back to the viewer. I lingered at this painting because something about the warrior was striking.

The next painting was the most brutal one of all. It had a warrior with a man cut open before him. His sword was stained with blood while the warrior held up the man's heart and other organs to show off to the world. I moved away from that painting quickly.

The final painting was of a girl in a dainty white dress, standing in the middle of the battleground. She didn't have any weapons and looked pretty helpless, but there was murder in her eyes. The way she glared at me, it looked like she'd crawl out of the painting and leap at me any moment. What struck me was that the dead bodies lying around her didn't seem to have any blood on them. Instead, they all seemed to be lying around the ground with tortured looks on their faces.

And immediately, I realised what these paintings were about.

The Traitors at the Battle of Heirs. They had lost and were cursed and exiled forever. I wondered why Grim had their paintings in his house.

"Aren't they beautiful?" A voice startled me from the other end of the gallery. It was Grim, leaning against the wall and studying me silently. He was in a white shirt and dark trousers, looking ready to go somewhere formal.

"Yeah," I breathed, glancing at the last painting again and swallowed. "They look old,"

"They are old," Grim clarified and straightened up before stalking towards me. "Which one's your favourite?" He asked, something twinkling in his eyes while the tip of his lips quivered, about to smirk.

"I like this one best," I told him, standing before the most brutal one. "It has so much personality," I added, making him laugh out loud.

"You think so?" He chuckled.

"Yeah, don't you have someone in your life you'd like to do this to?" I asked. Something dark stirred in his eyes.

"Do you have someone in life you'd like to do this to?" He asked, taking a step closer. I looked away from his fervent gaze and examined the painting of the warrior. His helm lay by his feet, discarded, his face exposed to the world. I stared at the bloodlust in his eyes while a satisfied sneer stretched on his lips.

The painting was the most brutal one. The details of the gore in it were sickening, but the more I looked at it, the more I liked it. It wasn't particularly the depth of the colours or the warrior's features. There was more to it. It was his rawness, how he seemed to be on the brink of madness, and instead of suppressing it as I had done in the past, this man was letting it out... even relishing it. There was nothing pretentious about him.

"Tell me," Grim urged. He was so close to me, and I didn't dare take my eyes off the painting... off the eyes of the savage warrior. Those rage-filled eyes were familiar as well. There was something hypnotic about his rage.

"Veronica?" He called, and I snapped out of my thoughts to look at him, only to stare into those same eyes. I blinked a few more times to push away the shades of red that corrupted my vision.

"What did you ask?" I asked, looking at his face. His features seemed oddly similar to that of the savage warrior— especially his eyes and nose. I glanced at the painting and then at him to ensure I had seen it correctly.

"I asked you if you'd like to murder someone in cold blood," He replied, gently brushing a strand of hair off my face while he added fervently, "You can tell me. I'd do that for you,"

Even though his voice was flirtatious, I searched his face to see if this was a joke. I found that it wasn't, and that sent a chill down my spine. I licked my lips and took a step back.

"Do you like killing people?" I asked grimly.

"No," He spoke, leaning by the panting, "That's extreme, but I like to see people suffer, especially those who do wrong by others,"

I barked a laugh, and he cocked his head.

"Isn't it the opposite of what the Underlords do?" I smiled sardonically, but he remained quiet, his face pensive and his eyes dark with unreadable thoughts. I bit my lip, wondering if I offended him. Fuck, I shouldn't have said that, but it was already out of my lips.

"Which one's your favourite?" I asked quickly to change the topic. He didn't answer.

~

"I want my phone back," I broke the tense silence in the car as he drove me home. Unlike yesterday, today's tension had nothing sexual about it. We had somewhat sated the mate bond last night. Today, the thick tension inside the car was of a different kind.

It made me nervous instead of aroused.

"I need it," I added when he remained quiet. He reached into his pocket and held it out for me. "Thanks," I tried to sound grateful as I took it from him. Our fingers brushed lightly, and the sparks from it intensified my nervousness. He had been quiet ever since we talked about the paintings.

The breakfast had been even more quieter. I complimented his cooking, and he nodded but said nothing more. I couldn't stop thinking about it. He was acting this way due to my words, and I regretted saying that, but my reaction to his silence puzzled me.

I shouldn't have felt guilty about saying the truth, yet I was guilty. I shouldn't have cared about this at all. His silence should've pleased me, but it didn't, and that frustrated me. It was that mate bond fucking with me.

I unlocked my phone and went through everything. This phone didn't have anything sensitive—just the dummy numbers of Matt and a couple more colleagues to stay in touch with. There were several of Matt's missed calls from the weekend, but nothing more than that.

When I looked up from the phone, I saw we were already parked in front of my apartment building.

"Thanks for the ride again," I smiled at him, undoing my seat belt. He didn't look at me as he answered. "Pleasure is mine,"

He didn't sound pleased at all.

"When are we meeting again?" I asked, almost grinding my question. The sudden change in his demeanour irked me more than it should.

"I'll let you know soon," He replied, nodding at me. "Be careful," He added as I opened the door and stepped out, but he said my name before I could shut the door and walk away.

I stilled and looked at him.

"Everyone does terrible things, especially those who claim otherwise," Was the last thing he said before driving away. 

~

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