Page 23 of Queen of the Wicked
But there wasn’t a home to return to, not like it used to be. Her mom was murdered, and her mother wasn’t anywhere to be found. She might not be alive, either.
What if her motherwastaken somewhere by Godric before he was killed? What if she was suffering? Erebos didn’t seem to have a morsel of pity to help find the only parent she had left. Then again, hewasthe Lord of Hell. Sharing pity didn’t seem to be a likely attribute he’d carry.
Muffling her sobs with her hand, Alessia slipped into the closest room and found herself in a study. The walls were lined with bookshelves, littered withvarious novels and trinkets. In the center of the room stood a cherrywood desk, its surface scattered with papers and a candle beside it, the wax freshly melted. A fire still raged in the hearth, warming the room, and Alessia felt just a smidge better when that warmth kissed her skin.
The rest of the castle was intimidating with its foreboding energy and shadowed corridors that felt like eyes watched her wherever she moved. This study was the first room that felt like home. It was cozy and comforting and the first space that seemedlivedin.
She dipped the candle into the fire to light it and stuck it back in its holder, allowing her tears to fall as she collapsed into the wingbacked chair beside the bookshelves.
Alessia despised crying, holding it in as a last resort, but she was helpless in her situation. The only thing she wanted to do was sit there and cry and remember her mom and all the good times they shared. Alessia never got the proper time to mourn her death, but tonight she would.
Every detail from that night played like a broken record in her mind. She mulled over them until the wee morning hours, hardly getting any sleep since she’d arrived. What else was she supposed to do? She heard her scream and didn’t turn around. Things might be different if she had returned to the house instead of running into the woods.
She could have saved her.
Godric’s lifeless eyes filtered in next, the atrocious act she committed without a second thought, leaving apermanent mark on her soul. She had killed someone in cold blood. She was amurderer.
There was nothing she could do to reverse it. She couldn’t save her mom, she couldn’t stop herself from killing the seraph, and she couldn’t find her?—
The lord’s presence was felt before he physically arrived, as if a string was held between them. The further away he was, the tighter it felt, but when his tall frame stood outside the doorway moments later, Alessia deflated against the chair when that string wasn’t pulled taut anymore, allowing a fraction of more air to drag into her lungs.
The last person she wanted to see right now was him, especially while having a mental breakdown, but shewasgrateful for the reprieve of the tightening in her chest. “What are you doing here, Erebos?”
When he stepped further into the room, he was panting and shirtless. Those onyx eyes ran wild as he scanned her from head to toe, almost as if searching for injuries. “I’m incapable ofnotbeing here,” he said. “Your thoughts were…distracting.”
She groaned. “Why can you read my thoughts, but I can’t read yours?”
“Mental shields,” he replied casually. “You’ll learn how to do it eventually. I try to stay out of your mind for the most part, but when you’re having a strong emotion, it projects.”
“Got it. Sorry for interrupting whatever it was you were doing. You can go now.”
He stared at her for a beat too long, and just when she thought he would turn around and leave, he strodefor the desk and sat on the edge of it. “What happened to your mom wasn’t your fault,” he said quietly. “You’re carrying regret when it shouldn’t be there.”
She scoffed. “How am I supposed to feel like it isn’t my fault? My parents had that escape route planned for years.Whoever was there was because ofme, and now my mom is dead. Of course, I’m going to carry the guilt. You can’t blame me for that.”
He shook his head. “I don’t blame you, but I’m sure she died trying to protect you because she loved you. I’m willing to bet she wouldn’t change a thing if she were still alive. She’d probably do it all over again if it meant keeping you safe and out of harm’s way.”
Alessia sniffled and wiped the snot away with the back of her sleeve, embarrassed that Erebos, of all people, was seeing her like this. Why had he even come to check on her, anyway? It wasn’t like he wantedto be there. He needed to check on her to calm her thoughts so he could go and get a piece of ass.Catalinawas likely waiting for him in his bedroom on the other side of the castle.
“You like Bronte?” Alessia almost laughed when she saw the book on the armrest of the chair. There were markings and bent pages, so it wasn’t like he could deny it.
“Does that surprise you?”
“Not really. Wuthering Heights seems right up your alley. Sad endings and whatnot.”
His lip twitched. “You think it has a sad ending? I’m surprisedyou’veread it. It’s an old book for you.”
“He lost the love of his life because he was toostubborn to admit his feelings for her, and then she diedwhen it was too late. How is that nota sad ending?” Alessia sat up straight and puffed out her chest. “Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss?—”
“Where I cannot find you,” Erebos finished, and then hesmiled.It was the most beautiful sight Alessia had ever seen. It beat the red sunset skies, the corathins on the entry table in the foyer, and every romance novel she’d ever read. That smile was pure light, and Alessia wondered why he didn’t showcase it more often. “In the end, Heathcliff reunites with Catherine in the afterlife. It’s hopeful.”
“How is that hopeful?”
He shrugged. “Heathcliff loved Catherine, but could never have her. He knew it was impossible. In a way, he wanted death to be reunited with her again, and I find hope in that. That maybe in the next lifetime, we can all get what we want, even if it’s impossible in this one.”
Alessia found herself breathless at his words. He picked up the book between them, skimming through the pages. It was worn and tattered. Clearly, he had read it more than once. “And eventually,after living in misery for so many long and agonizing years, he found her in the afterlife, and I imagine that all of those years spent in misery made it worth it.” He rested the book back down on the armrest, his hand inches from hers.
“Who knew you were a romantic?” she mused. This was their first conversation that hadn’t resulted in a screaming match, so she considered it progress.
