Page 64 of Immortal Bastard

She felt responsible for their deaths. Her conscience couldn’t bear the mounting tally of souls they left behind in each village. Sometimes, she suffered his harsh treatment longer than her frail body could endure, simply to save those she could.

The legends of loyalty between called mates were false. He held a limitless disdain for her, proven by his dishonor every day. He never looked kindly on her or spoke with any sort of affection. She lived with a steady ache between her thighs that never had time to heal, flesh that was often more blue than pink, a hunger that never abated, and an unmendable crack within her heart.

She forgot what it was to smile, losing all sense of time and place. She no longer cared where they were going. They never stopped moving.

She tried to remember the soft, clean scent of her baby brother’s hair, but as more time passed, those surreal memories began to fade. After several years of him only calling her girl, she found it difficult to recall her own name.

They settled only to move on again, over and over, their untethered existence withered away her sense of self like moths chewing through the fabric of time. She cooked, laundered his clothing, and darned his socks, but no amount of servitude won his favor. She lived in her thoughts, but her mind grew darker every day.

When they finally reached the kingdom of Leon, they settled and he declared it their home, but stillness did not suit him. His pensive stare watched her as if he finally had time to consider that she might be more than an object to serve his needs.

One night, while chewing his food, he dissected her with his eyes. “Why do you not speak, girl?”

Afraid to answer and terrified to stay silent, her unused voice stammered out of her, scratchy and dry. “I… have nothing to say.”

“Say your name.”

It had been so long, the word did not come easily to mind. “A-Adriel.”

He grunted, licking the bits of meat from his fingers and watching her with ill intent. Soon, he would be inside of her, crushing her with his weight and holding her down as she internally screamed. He did not need her name for that, so she didn’t see why he asked.

But she wanted his. She needed a word to curse when it came time for her revenge. “W-what… should I…call you?”

His brow lifted, as if surprised she did not know his title, and then he nodded. “I am Cerberus Maddox.”

“Cerberus Maddox,” she repeated, testing the word with her tongue. They hardly spoke and she didn’t want to forget it.

He pointed to his chest. “Cer,” pronouncing the title like sir.

“Cer,” she repeated, hoping to satisfy him and earn his kindness.

He pushed his plate aside and opened his knees, reaching into his clothes. “Take off your frock and come here.”

Not once did he speak her name after that, so she never understood why he’d asked for it.

They remained in Portugal for several decades, and over time, Adriel settled in. Seeing those of her kind on occasion stirred an insufferable ache for home. But this was her home now.

One afternoon, she spotted a male immortal with hair blacker than a raven’s wing and obsidian eyes watching her while she washed clothes. He looked at her—into her—as if he could somehow see the whole of her misery.

Whenever Cer left, she waited for the dark-haired male to return, desperately wanting another look at him. When he finally appeared, she was taken aback by his beauty. His stare pulled her in like the moon draws the tide and she found herself captivated and calmed by his presence.

Who was he and why did he watch her in such a way?

Eleazar.

The name intruded into her mind, jarring her into a fearful state of distress.

Do not fear. I mean you no harm.

Her breath caught. Her mouth framed the word, Eleazar, repeating it without sound. It became a mantra she mentally thought whenever she wanted to escape her reality. For a time, she wondered if he was her destiny, and the life she’d been suffering had been a terrible mistake.

Day after day, he traveled by, always pausing across the thoroughfare and meeting her stare. She didn’t know how she could hear him in her thoughts or why she felt so intrigued by him, but something inside of her believed he came to her for a reason.

What’s your name, girl?

She recoiled at the term girl, afraid he might know Cerberus, but he quickly confronted her fears.

I only want your name, friend.

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