She rolls her eyes, and lets out a sharp, derisive scoff. "Why what?"
"Don't play, you know what I'm talking about."
"I've done a lot of things, Abel," she says, voice light as a feather. "I blinked. I moved. I let you drag me here—"
"Why did you feed on him!"
That halts her. "Ahhh, that."
With deliberate poise, she shifts—one leg tucked beneath her, the other bent to prop her elbow. "I'm a monster, Abel." She says, her voice soft, almost indulgent. "You didn't actually think I'd spare him after he beat me, did you?"
"No, I didn't. And I didn't also think you'd bite him—and then feed on his body."
Her lips part. "Feed? What— I wasn't feeding on him, I—"
"You had your fangs on his neck! Even when we walked in, you didn't let go! You remained there, sitting on him," I drag in a long, trembling breath. "And you knew—you knew—you weren't supposed to do that. Not to him. So why did you?"
She sighs heavily, then rises on her feet gracefully, unhurried, as if Luther's blood has somehow lent her strength to be majestic and... I hope I'm not gawking, or anything.
She walks closer, then stop within arm's reach. Her gaze travels over my face, searching, and savoring. Then, her lips curl into something between amusement and disdain.
"You're asking why I bit Luther…" she says, tilting her head, "or why I bit Luther?"
Two long strides and the distance between us disappears. My hand finds her throat, and I slam her against the wall. The sound echoes like a slammed door. Crazy, she doesn't flinch. Instead, she laughs, a low, wicked sound that vibrates through my palm.
And I... Am enjoying this. But I don't think Abel is.
"Don't test me," I sneer. "You know why I'm upset, so don't play with me!"
Her gaze flicks down to my mouth before she answers, voice dripping with mockery. "I'm not. I mean... I'm just being myself; a bloodthirsty animal. But, what's your excuse, sweetheart? Why are you so angry—"
"I am not!"
That only makes her laugh harder. "No, of course not. Your breath is shaking, the veins in your neck are begging to be seen, and you've pinned me simply because it's dark outside and you don't know what else to do with your life."
She's right. I always lose control when I can't have what I want. But what about Abel? What's his excuse? Is this rage really about Luther's death… or something entirely different?
"I was just with Cain, pleading—begging him to remove the shackles from your feet. Do you think he'll do that now, after what you've done?"
Her smile dies instantly. "I never asked you to do that—"
"You didn't have to, you goat! I feel it; every strike of the whip against your back, the bone-ache from walking too long, the weight of dragging these irons day after day. I felt it all, as if it were my own flesh bursting under the whip. And now..." My grip hardens until her breath catches. "You just sabotaged our only chance. And you still want to play? I'm warning you... Do. Not. Play, with me."
"Or else what?" she whisper back, then lifts her chin to meet my gaze. "You'll kiss me? And the second I let my guard down—stab me in the back?"
Something in my chest drops, and then starts pounding, hard. I finally let go of her, finally. Then, my feet moves back, retreating.
"No," she taunts, drawing closer. "Go on. Do it. You did it before."
I look down, down from her wrist and then to the shackles clamped around her ankles, and my vision blurs with tears.
Is this how he chained her? With a kiss? With a trick? What's wrong with you, Abel? And what's wrong with her? Why didn't she fight back? If she's truly as powerful as she looks, why endure this? Why stay bound when she could actually break free?
I step back, avoiding her gaze. My hand gropes blindly for something—anything. My eyes sweeps the ground until it catches on a solid rock lying half-buried in the dirts. I pick it up, heavy and cold, and stare at it for a second.
"Abel?" she moves back a step. "What are you doing with that?" One step closer, is two steps backward for her. Her tone tightens, desperate now. "Abel? What—what are you going to do with that?!"
If I was Abel, I wouldn't just sit around, begging for her feet to be spared, I'd free her from it. But unfortunately, Abel and I... we're nothing alike. So I don't know what his next move is.
Suddenly, I go down on one knee before her shackles, my grip tightening around the stone. And then—
I bring it down hard against the iron.
One.
The clang reverberates through the hut.
Two—
But before the second strike lands, a blinding, scorching pain seizes me completely, as though I've struck my own chest with the rock. And I'm not talking about Abel's body alone, I mean Abel's body and me.
An invisible hand flings me across the hut, my spine finds the wall, fast enough to rip air from my lungs, and hard enough to hear something crack.
I drop on my four, but the world tilts, so I fall, coughing until blood surges up, spilling over my face.
The night child screams Abel's name, and before I can even Abel, she's by my side, scooping my head up against her chest.
"What in your father's name is wrong with you!" she shouts. My vision blurs out her face made everything in the hut, so all I can make of is the panic in her voice. "You know very well that the chains are enchanted, why would you do that!"
Enchanted?
I cough again, tasting iron and fury in my throat.
Why—why do I always learn the truth at the very last minute?
I laugh, but it dies midway, turning into a rough cough which makes the pain in my chest even angrier. "Did you see that? I flew."
She only stares down at me, quiet, thinking, I guess.
"You know... when the mountain men told me the shackles were blessed, I didn't believe them."
"You goat! You knew those white-headed bastards better than anyone, and still you took their warnings lightly! What were you thinking? What did you expect would happen after you struck it?"
I try to laugh again but end up wheezing. "You're right. I'm a fool, an animal. A goat. What was I thinking? I just wanted to break the chains… free you."
"To free me." Her voice softens. She lets out a laugh of her own, but her laughter breaks with a choked sob. Then, something warm and wet splashes on my chest. Tears.
"You... are not boring at all; First you put me in chains, and now you want to set me free. What do you even want, Abel?"
"I made a mistake, and now I want to make it right. I want to do what you're hesitating to do."
"It's not that simple."
"I know you're stronger than everyone I've met, I know you can break free from this—i'm not entirely naive. So why? Why don't you just run away? Why do you allow yourself to be dragged —
"Because, Abel, it's the only way I can pay you back! It's the only way I pay for what I did—to you, and to your Cain. And to your family."
"You can't do that."
"I'm doing it already—"
"You don't get to decide who pays and who doesn't!" I sneer, forcing myself upright, and then pull her closer. "You're mine. Only I decide your fate. And your fate… is to live. By any means necessary. Do you understand me?"
She nods faintly. Then again, harder.
"And the next time I see your fangs on anyone who isn't me," I continue, pulling her back and forth, "that'll be the last time you have fangs. Am I clear?"
She scoffs, then cups my cheek. "I can't use my fangs on you again, Abel."
"Why?" I grit.
"You wouldn't understand."
"You're right, I don't. But I know what I want," I wheeze, clutching my chest as another wave of pain blooms inside me. "If you ever need blood for your strength, you come to me. I have enough."
She holds my hand in between hers. "Never will a day come where I will need your blood, Abel. And I really hope... that you stop testing me too. I will not use my fangs on you again, that is final." She lowers her head to press her lips gently against my palm.
I close my eyes, letting out a long sigh, as though I've been holding my breath for a long time.
And just as am trying to enjoy this moment, danger storms in.
"Stay away from him!"
Cain shouts, voice like a thousand angry gods. Before panic can sink in, he rushes in and hits her with his torch, knocking her out instantly —
Pain exploded in my head like a second blow, almost as if Cain had struck me too. My hands fly to cradle my own skull, the world tilts even harder than before.
And then… flat line.