Page 46 of His Little Devil

ARROW

The weeks aren't getting any easier and the wedding is fast approaching. I still don't have an answer whether or not Donovan is going to come.

I hope he does, because I can't risk losing him for good. And pissing off Luke is not a good idea.

I get it, I do. He can't face Silver and honestly I don't want to either. I am so torn with how I feel about her.

One day I want to rip her heart out and watch her crumble at my feet. Another I want to throw her onto a bed and fuck her until she begs for me to let her come.

Then there are the odd days where I just miss her. I miss the way she'd hum and dance while baking the most delicious muffins.

Or how we'd just cuddle in her bed and watch movies when she was sad, thinking about her family.

I still don't understand why she decided to leave us for him. Maybe if I could just get some time alone with her, she will explain to me what the fuck happened.

How we went from having fun in the limousine, to her ditching us and shattering our fragile hearts.

We were broken men when she met us and for a minute there she made us whole. Now we are just fractured.

Some more than others. I guess I got off easy. I never truly gave my heart to her. She owned a sliver, and I was on the verge of giving her more. But it's too late now. She's burned those bridges.

Looking over at Wellson, I sigh. “I know you don't want to face the truth, brother, but you need to. It's time to wake up. To start healing.”

Leaving him, I walk to my room and grab a change of clothes. I have plans tonight but I don't want to fucking go.

Jade and Clara are forcing me to go dress shopping with them. She popped by the other day with a basket of muffins that looked suspiciously like Silver's, but that's not possible.

She begged me to take them because Hunter's have been spotted in the area. I'd suggested saving a trip and money and just conjuring something, but they refused.

Leaving my room, I head for the shower. I cleaned up the mess I made a few months ago, but it doesn't matter.

This whole cottage holds the ghosts of her presence. Her laughing haunts me some mornings.

I can almost picture her making a mess all over the counter as she rolls out her homemade cinnamon rolls.

The way she would toss her hair up into a messy bun and get flour all over her cheeks.

Fuck, I need to get this chick out of my fucking head. I need her to leave me the hell alone. To stop haunting everywhere I step.

Muttering a spell, my clothes disappear and I step into the shower, letting the cold water crash over me.

I need to force these memories away. I need to create new ones to overtake the ones starring her.

Grabbing some citrus body wash, I scrub my skin of the ghost of her touch.

Taking some shampoo, I cleanse my hair from the way she would run her fingers through it.

As the water beats over me, I give myself one moment to mourn her loss, then I rinse myself, and turn the water off, letting all my hate, misery, and confusion swirl down the drain with the suds from the soap.

Reaching for a towel, I have to grip the bathroom wall as a vision hits me hard and fast. Using my wind magic, I dry myself off, then get dressed.

I don’t understand anything that I saw, but I have a sense of foreboding.

Someone is coming, and it’s not going to end well. I don’t know when they are arriving or where, but they are going to bring us misery and pain and blood. Lots of blood.

It's going to be a massacre. I just wish I knew more details.

Leaving the bathroom, I stop by the kitchen and look out the window. The sun is shining, and a few of my peers are walking up and down the paths.

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