Page 66 of When Day Breaks

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lavender haze

Lavender Cyn

Venom.

It's the tattoo I saw coming down over my face before I was knocked out. Comprehension that her tattoo has two visual meanings to it.Womenwhen shown to others;venomwhen facing her.

But I saw it as she came up from behind me, leaving me not a breath more to exhale.Neck snapped once again?That's likely, given the aches in my head and the shooting pain that throbs down my back. I know it'll go away within the next few minutes though.

What won't go away is the spitefulness I feel at the person who put me here. My dumb fucking sister. And for the amount of time my fucking neck has played victim at the hands of every person in this God forsaken castle.

I look down at the rest of my body and Deja Vu floods me. I'm covered in blood and my head pounds in an agonizingly painful ache. And these God forsaken chains.

I don't remember much after Troian ventured up those steps . . . until I do.

The curse, obviously a ticking time bomb, decided that then was a good time as any to make its return and now, I sit chained to the same fucking spot I found myself in a few nights ago, feeling an intense rage course through me. As annoyed as I am that I didn't even get so much of a clear sign that I might be falling under—only a light dizzy spell causing me to stumble a bit—I can't say I'm disappointed in the result.

It felt so fucking good knowing that I was what they were afraid of. I grin to myself at the remembrance of the guards bursting through another hidden door and the look on their faces when they realized it was me that they were faced with. But they wouldn't have been afraid of little ole me, that is unlikely. It was the swirl of lavender I know plagued my eyes that affrighted them, stopped them in their tracks and had them backing up like little bitches.

I'm not in control of who I am and how I act when under the binds of this curse. I know that now. But it still doesn't do much to quell the hunger I feel when all that is manufacturing my drive is the need to be the villain I've been forced to become. I haven't been a vampire long enough to know what I'm capable of when I'm free of the wings this wretched thing has on me. But I know that I don't stand a chance fighting myself against the darkness that takes over. The only thing that's changed is that now, I have the knowledge that I'm cursed but as it is, I still simply don't care.

The taste of the first guard's blood didn't satisfy my thirst. But I was foolish and took too much time feeding on him and allowed the others to escape. Though not before their preciousking waltzed through the door, hoping to get a glimpse at the queen of the Society far greater than his and instead, he met his fucking maker.

Viktrum's blood still lingers in my hair, on my tongue, and splattered all over my body as I slouch against the wall, decorated with chains. But this time—when I recall my standoff with the king back at Valor Cove—I had learned my lesson. I knew that tearing his pathetic beating organ from his body wouldn't erase the seedy bastard. So I took the sad excuse of a weapon he carried with him as his ugly face stepped out from behind his guards, and I used it to sever his fucking head.Why would he need a weapon, I had laughed.Is he that insecure in his stance as a king?

Before I could lean down and savor the taste of his blood, Troian had climbed back down from the steps to see what I had done, the other guards had already ditched the scene. Her gasp didn't shame me or cause me to try and defend myself. I did what I did because it was fun, and per the grace of nature herself, I couldn't stop myself even if I wanted to.

"Lucynda?" I hear Rivian's panicked voice come barreling through the hall of the basement in a shattered echo, and part of me feels like I should worry; my husband will see the mess I've made. But nothing of the time we've spent these last few days seems to affect me in my current state and I just can't bring myself to remember why I should care.

He runs around the corner of the large open doors and stops short when he sees me. Rivian's face looks defeated, maybe even scared. I can't be too sure in the cover of the dark. But I can hear the worry in his tone. I don't spare him a glance knowing that he's looking over at me. I'm right where he wanted me all along; chained to his fucking soul.

"I thought we had more time." His concern should flatter me. But I don't let it.

Rivian continues toward me. I wince because I don't think I want him too close. But he doesn't see me as he reaches my feet and drops to his haunches. "What happened, Cyn?"Fuck, his voice is low and guttural as it drips with worry. It sends a surprising shock of greed to my core and I hate that I still can't deny him.

He expects me to answer him as if I amme. As if I am some scared, fragile vampire who hates the terrifying monster she's become when really, I am reeling under this lavender spell. I get to show the world who I really am and what I'm really made of. No one will taunt me ever again.

All of the horrid things that have been done to me came flooding back the moment the curse started to recourse through my veins while Troy explored the secret room that we found inside the Valor Cove castle. She wasn't there to save me from the disease taking over. Not that she could have done much because it had spread like wildfire, harsh and fast.

I kick my feet out a little, teasing the chains that clasp against my ankles. I lean my head back against the cold bricks behind me and let up a little smirk.

"I killed the king," I respond in a nonchalant tone, rather melodramatic for my taste but once the veil lifts and the villain in me emerges, I have no room for emotions other than the fury that drives me.

"You did what?" Rivian stands, staring down at me now. Awareness materializes; the blood layered on my delicate skin, caressing the scar he loves to cherish, and seeping into my clothes is that of his enemy.

Where's his appreciation?

"Lucynda, please tell me that you-" I stand, cutting him off from finishing his judgmental conclusion. Rage boils over at his seemingly concerned tone and his question of my actions. It's as if he is disappointed in me and I won't stand for that.

I lunge for him, knowing that I am bound to the wall.

"I eliminated a threat. That's what queens do!" I shout my prideful accomplishments at him with anger clinging to my timbre. My words echo off the walls around us as I watch my dearly beloved's eyes shift from concern to the utter fury that I know plagues him.

"I think that instead of coddling me or worrying about my actions, you should be down on your fucking knees thanking me for erasing the problems you face." I swing my chained arm, wanting to serve a purpose by threatening him with a warning, but he doesn't flinch.

Instead, he matches my thunder with his own and spits his own argument my way.

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