The Demon's Half

Chapter 37

Shadows cradled my body like hands that knew every bruise and fracture. The wounds on my arms tingled, and I looked down to find them healed. He came.
Alexander.

He stepped out of the darkness. Every inch of him commanded attention, from the lazy set of his shoulders to the dangerous gleam in his blue eyes.
The room hadn't reacted yet—because it couldn't. He had stolen the air. A wicked smirk tugged at his lips.

"What? No applause?" he drawled. I could sense the dread in the room. Dead silence followed.
He came for me.
He came to rescue me.

Ornella turned slowly. "You always did have a flair for dramatics, my love."

My love?
She hooked a finger under his jaw and tipped his face to hers. He didn't pull away... and kissed her.   Wait, what?
No. It couldn't be.
And when they kissed again I knew... This wasn't rehearsed. This felt ancient. This felt real.
He'd touched me, protected me, called me stupid pet names like it meant something. Everything I thought we had, every look, every cryptic line, every moment, had been a joke. A means to an end.

My fingers curled, flames dancing to life across my skin. What was this? Anger? No.
It was heartbreak.

Ornella pulled back, her lips still glistening. "I guess you've met my husband. Ozzy," she said.

The room felt too small even with the endless ceiling. I was still standing, somehow, but the world beneath me had cracked open.
Husband.
All this time I thought she was dead. I thought he mourned her. 'Magic always takes more than it gives,' he'd said. But she wasn't gone. It was obvious now. The way they mirrored each other: in their playful grins, their movements, even the words they used. A telltale sign of people who have spent a great deal of time together.

Alexander laughed under his breath. "Were you really that naive, Little Lamb?" he mused, looking at me like I was insignificant.
And maybe I was. Because I had walked straight into the slaughterhouse with open arms. Tears blurred my vision. Carajo. Mierda.
No.
Not now.
Not in front of him. Never in front of him.

"I was trying to fix it, you know," Ornella said. "Mend what I did."

Though it might have been the biggest risk I'd ever taken, I blurted, "Splitting the souls?"

Her laughter was violent. "No, dear," she said. "I'm trying to take back the half he lost."

I could feel Alexander watching me, his gaze pressing against my skull like a spotlight. But I wouldn't look at him. Not now. Not ever.

"Witches don't have souls," she said sweetly, batting her lashes. "But demons? They keep half of their mortal one." She stepped closer. "And you happen to have his other half. You're his soulmate. But the thing is, only I can be his soulmate. Since I couldn't claim him..." she sighed, "this is the only way. And then, we will finally be happy. Like we used to be."

She was the witch that had brought him back.
Her hand gripped his sleeve, her nails digging in. He didn't move. Didn't deny her. The Alexander I knew never existed. Not the one who teased me, who caught me mid-fall, who saved me when I didn't even want to be saved. It had all been a lie.

Ornella leaned in, lips brushing his again, like this was just another chapter in their eternal story.

"So that's it? That's why you want me?" I threw my hands in the air. "Take it, then."

She only smiled as if we were long lost friends. "Patience." His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer.

I didn't fall for him, I tripped over my own delusions.