A Blood Soaked Throne - Part Two

Fifteen - Damien

I can't take my eyes off of her, my shirt sliding up her back as she bends over to pull her leggings on. The feeling of her soft flesh in my hands is still present in my mind as I find a collection of faint marks along her skin. I have to admit that the conversation we had downstairs fueled my need to satisfy her. I needed to have her desires satisfied by me alone, to crave my touch more than anything else.

Her confession of her love for me only made that need more intense. I want to win this challenge against my father, to be by her side for the rest of our long eternity. Together. It's no longer a hope that I will survive this battle, but a necessity. I can't leave her alone again. The time for this all to end is approaching much faster than I anticipated. My power has grown, my wounds are healing after the collapse. I don't have much time left with her before death comes for either me or my father.

I follow her out into the hallway, turning into the kitchen as she settles on the couch to face me with her book in hand. I dig through the fridge and cabinets again searching for something to make for dinner in a few hours. Until then there's really nothing for us to do but wait. As the idea of a meal comes together I step back into the living room, settling myself onto the opposite side of the couch.

Her legs tangle with mine as she looks at me over the book she's barely paying any attention to. I rest my hand on her shin, the simplest connection enough to send small waves of electricity through both of us. Just being next to her forces the thoughts of what I plan to do tonight into my head, but I don't see any other way to keep her safe. I have to talk to Cyrus, to convince him to protect her while I go after my father. I have to leave her behind.

I won't take her with me just to lose and lead her directly into his arms. At least if she's here with Cyrus she has a chance to stay safe. If by some miracle I win then I'll be able to wake her up with the news that she's finally free. I'll worry about earning her forgiveness for not telling her afterwards.

The time passes rather quickly with the music from the jukebox vibrating the floor below us and the sound of laughter carrying up the stairs. I pull Alayah's hand into mine and graze a kiss across her knuckles before standing to make dinner. My focus turns to cutting vegetables and seasoning meat as the noise downstairs begins to die down. The clock on the wall tells me the bar should be closing up.

I shove a baking dish in the oven, a familiar scream twisting my body around as the oven door slams closed. I find myself frozen in place as my eyes find Alayah held tightly to the chest of someone I've never seen before. He's tall, his head easily reaching over hers. His hair is a soft ashy brown with short, messy curls. He's lean, not much in the way of muscle. I could certainly take him if I could get to him, but the knife he's pressing to her throat assures me that I can't.

Her hands are wrapped around his forearm, trying desperately to keep the pressure off of her neck. I take a step forward, but the thin line of blood that begins to cut across her skin forces me to stop. She lets out a strangled cry that pierces straight into my heart. The overwhelming current of power begins to flow through my veins, but I can't use it. She's too close, I need to keep it under control.

Footsteps rush up the stairs to follow her scream, and I see Cyrus ascend to the top. His face is showing obvious shock, but he seems to recognize the attacker.

"What are you doing here?" he asks with a deep anger in his voice.