Page 81 of Nocturne

It’s sick and pathetic that I’d let myself feel this way.

I barely know her, yet the thought of anyone else having tasted her first drives me mad. I hate the weakness it exposes in me, the desire that burns hotter every time I see her. And still, even through the shame, through the confusion, I can’t escape one single, cutting need: she should have been mine first.

With an inhuman growl, I rip the beating organ with my bare hands. The blood oozes out in rivulets, most of it covering my shirt and a part of my face. I let the useless organ go, throwing it before my feet. I look at it with disdain. The glaring evidence of my shredded control.

There is no use in denying the truth anymore.

Somehow, in the limited time we have met and conversed, Ara has dug her nails under my skin. She has started to become the woman who stole my focus and ripped the control that lies under my feet. She has somehow struck the match for the start of my obsession, and I always follow my intense obsessions ruthlessly.

There is no denying the truth that Ara is mine.

It’s about time she learns it.

Twenty-Two

Ara

It’s a beautiful day in Walius. The garden of Hope Springs is filled with children as they run around in their thick coats, their laughter filling the air with pure joy.

The trees around us move slightly with the breeze, the nip in the air reminding all of us about the upcoming winter in a few weeks. Even as I watch Cas sit under a birch tree, drawing something on his sheets with a small smile on his adorable face, my heart refuses to settle.

It has been this way since that night. Restless nights where Burke’s words played inside my head incessantly. My mind was unable to forget a certain Titan who followed me home. I never saw him, but I could feel his gaze poking at the back of my neck with every step I took.

And instead of hailing a cab like I should have, I walked all the way home. In heels, without a coat and in a dress, that did very little to help me keep warm.

I try not to fixate on the fact that when I stepped inside to buy myself a coffee to keep me from dying of hypothermia, I found a coat draped neatly on the railing of the cute coffee shop. I wouldn’t have stopped to give it any attention if not for its size.

I’ve been given something similar, and there was only one person I knew to be that large that all his clothes seemed to becustom-made. And the coat had a distinctive scent that belonged to him and had me whiffing at it like a dog before I put it on.

And after that little gesture, despite the bad night that I had, despite the hurt, a small smile played on my lips all the while I walked home. Just to ebb my curiosity to see how long he would stay, I made him tea. I left the takeaway mug and his coat on the chair on my little lawn. By the time I quickly rinsed myself, both his coat and the mug were gone. Is it foolish to admit that it had been the highlight of my night?

I groan and bury my face in my hands.

What is wrong with me? Why did I text Sean and suggest that we just be friends when he could be good for me? Why can’t I stop thinking about the man who would be nothing but wrong for my life? Not to forget a man who is NOT interested in me.

“If you pull on your hair any tighter, you’ll become bald.”

I turn to see Harley walking towards me, a small amusing smile playing on her face. Even though it has only been a little a few months since we met, there is an unknown bond that seems to link us together. Where Ivy struggles to understand a certain twistedness inside my head—but always sits to give me her silent support—Harley sees it.

She has a certain darkness of her own, which I see lurking beneath the surface of those unique grey-blue eyes of hers. She tries to hide it, but I see the hollowness in her. A darkness I cannot name.

Both of us never push each other for secrets, but we know we can rely on each other. Maybe it is true when they said when two people face similar hellholes, they form strong connections rapidly due to their shared experiences.

I smile at the lightheartedness that is slowly coming out when she is with me. Despite the unease that sometimes rushes forward that I brush off, Harley is easy to talk to. She is wise, and her outlook on life and people is…different. The good kind.

I move to give her space on the iron bench installed on the periphery of the gardens. From here, we can see the kids playing, the tree line that leads into the thick forest and feel the gentle sway of the wind. Harley plops down beside me, covered only in a thin sweater.

I frown at the material and turn even more confused when I don’t see her shivering. I’m wearing a thick coat and have a thick woollen shirt underneath, and I still feel cold. This woman is barely covering herself and still doesn’t shiver.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Not really.” She looks down at her sweater.

“The temperature is in the negatives! You need to put on a thicker coat, Harley.” I admonish.

“I’ve been through worse,”

Before I can ask what she means,

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