Page 77 of Tears of Revenge

“It would be nice if you told me so I can make up my own mind.” Her tone was reserved, but not rude.

“Troy is still alive, and we are holding him in a cell.” Avalon froze. Her eyes zeroed in on the tomato she’d intended to slice. He gave her a moment, then continued, “I beat him within an inch of his life after I saw what he’d done to you, but then I thought you might want your own revenge. So, I healed him.”

“We didn’t want to keep it from you any longer,” Varos added. “We don’t have to keep him alive, but we didn’t want to take the choice away from you. He hurt you, nearly killed you. Now you can decide his fate.”

“He did.” Her voice was heavy, her words making no sense. “He did kill me. I’m dead.”

“Technically yes,” Varos answered, with carefully considered words. “But you are alive and you can choose his punishment.”

There was a long silence in which Lysander was able to finish cooking his meal. Silently, he took her hand and guided her to sit next to him on the couch. Almost in a trance, she watched Lysander eat, sipping on a glass Varos had handed her.

He was relieved when she finally spoke.

“What can I do to him?”

“You can do whatever you like, but his end game is death. How long he lives—and what he has to live through—is entirely up to you.”

“What if I don’t want to see him again?”

“I’ll have a little fun with him before I drain and burn him. Maybe I’ll just let him burn alive—depends on my mood.”

With each word, Avalon’s eyes got wider. Then as she considered them, her eyes turned blood red and her fangs peeked out from behind the devilish grin forming on her lips.

“He’s yours, little dove. He lives and dies at your mercy.” He’d never seen this side of her, and though he’d promised to protect her from harming others, this was different. “You don’t have to make up your mind right now.”

Avalon nodded, stood, and set the empty glass in the sink before disappearing down the hallway. He heard the sound of her flopping down in her bean bag, then the page of a book flipping. Lysander retired as well, wiped out from his shift. A moment later, Varos did the same. He was left alone with his worried thoughts. He listened to Avalon. Though she’d grabbed a book to read, she hadn’t turned a single page. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but he knew that keeping that secret could be a death sentence to their relationship.

Eventually, he couldn’t help himself. He stood up and went to the library, his body drawn to her like a magnet. He hesitated—briefly—before walking over, scooping her up into his arms, then laying down on the beanbag with her.

“We don’t need to talk,” he said. “I just want to hold you.”

Avalon set the book aside and nuzzled into his neck. His hand slipped under her shirt, drawing circles on her silky skin, his thoughts calming with every passing second.

“What would you do?” Her voice was raspy, and he wasn’t sure if it was from thirst or because she’d been quiet for so long.

“I would enjoy making him suffer. But I’m a fucked-up bastard so I wouldn’t recommend it for you.”

“Does he know I’m alive?”

“We let him assume for a while, then we told him. He could also think we’re just messing with him.”

“What will happen if I see him?”

“You might lose control. The thirst will enhance your blind rage.”

“So, I’ll kill him?”

“You might, but we will only let that happen if that’s what you want.”

“You can stop me?”

“We can.” He knew it would be hard, but he would let her rip him apart if necessary. Her innocence was precious to him.

“I might hurt you too.”

“I think we can handle a few scratches.”

“You’re downplaying it,” she scolded but didn’t move away from him. In fact, she sought out more of him, slipping her fingers beneath his shirt. Her hand paused over his frozen heart as if she could still feel its beat.

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