Serpentine Desires

The predator-163

Zayne was stable.

Fucking finally.

The doctor had done something, messed with his drips, stabilized him, and I should've been relieved. Should've.

Instead, as soon as we stepped out of that goddamn room, I had the bastard by the throat.

His pulse hammered against my palm, his body dangling just slightly off the ground, feet scraping against the pristine floor. The moment his hands came up to claw at mine, I squeezed harder. I wanted to feel his windpipe give out. Wanted to hear the desperate little gasps for air as he realized just how fucking close he was to meeting his god.

"What did you give him?" My voice was too calm. The kind of calm that preceded a bloodbath.

The doctor's eyes were wide, the stark white of them almost bulging out of his skull as he stammered, "It—it was just—"

"Speak."

"It was tranquilizers—"

Tranquilizers.

My vision went black around the edges.

"I said not to give him any other medication, didn't I?" The words scraped through my teeth.

Zayne didn't need their fucking drugs. He needed me.

He needed love. Not whatever cocktail of chemicals they pumped into his veins to make him quiet. He was already too quiet. Too fragile. And now they wanted to sedate him? Numb him until he stopped screaming?

No.

The doctor was trembling now, sweat dripping down his forehead, his hands weakly clawing at my grip. I could feel the faint pulse beneath his skin, quick and terrified, and I wanted to press just a little harder.

I wanted to watch the life drain from his eyes.

I wanted to—

Soft hands wrapped around my arm.

Fuck.

Not now, Ptichka.

"Judas..."

Her voice was quiet, feather-light. A whisper against the storm roaring inside me.

I let go.

The doctor hit the floor like a sack of bones, coughing and wheezing, hands clutching his throat as he scrambled back, away from me. But I wasn't looking at him anymore. I was looking at her.

Ptichka.

She was standing too close, too fucking close, and I could feel the heat of her skin, the warmth of her breath, the weight of her concern pressing into me like a goddamn vice.

I stepped back.

Kept my hands at my sides.

Distance.

I needed distance.

Because if I touched her now, I didn't know what I would do. I didn't know what was clawing up my throat, rattling against my ribs, tearing through my fucking skull.

I shouldn't be here.

I should be killing Lucius.

But I wasn't.

I was here. Watching my brother fall apart. Watching him slip into a darkness I couldn't pull him from.

And all I could think about was how this was my fucking fault.

Because I had been there.

I had fucking been there.

I had watched the step-doctor mess with his drips.