The Serpent and the Wings of Night

“I have no regrets. I’d throw you out that window again.”
“Oh, I know, princess. I know.”

“I have plenty of self-control, Oraya,” he murmured. “Don’t you worry about me.”

But deep, deep inside my heart, somewhere I wouldn’t look at too closely, I could feel it. A crack.

And then I realized. I realized that fear, when embraced, hardens and sharpens.
That it becomes rage.
That it becomes power.

“You look nice,” he said, in a tone of voice that made nice sound like a million other promises, each of which shivered over my flesh.

I turned to him. His throat bobbed, eyes darkening.
I knew that look, too. A different kind of hunger.

Kisses over the fresh scar I had asked for. Kisses over the old one I had not.

“You don’t even know, Oraya.” The corner of his mouth, where a little smudge of my blood remained, curled as he shook his head. “The things I’ve thought about. ‘Want’ doesn’t even fucking cover it. I have a list.”

When his eyes came back to mine, he looked like a man undone. “Come here,” he whispered. Pleaded.

“I would beg,” he murmured. “For you, I would. You have fucking destroyed me, Oraya. Do you know that?”

He had destroyed me, too. Perhaps it was good that we would die tomorrow. Because I didn’t know how to remake myself after this.

“You are more than what he made you,” he said.

And his fingers clutched mine, trembling, as he hissed, “So don’t you fucking dare stop fighting, princess. It would break my damned heart.”

Everything I couldn’t say threatened to drown me.

“I was ready to let it all go for you,” he murmured. “Do you know that, Oraya? I was ready to let my kingdom fall for you. You should have let me stay dead.”

A world without you would be a dark, depressing place.

I’ve lived through some injustices in the last couple of centuries. Seen some fucking travesties. But one of the biggest, Oraya, is that anyone taught you that you should become anything other than exactly what you are.

“But I’m tired, sweetheart. Tired of being afraid.

Eternity gave vampires so many years to perfect the art of dark, dangerous beauty

I learned that being ruthless was not the same thing as being fearless.

I didn’t cry. No. I was fucking furious. Sadness was a futile, weak emotion. At least anger was useful—a sharp edge to cut another’s heart, or a hard shell to protect your own.

“I’m sorry I didn’t aim higher.” He looked pointedly down at himself. “A little higher, or a lot higher?”

“That thigh looks bad. It’s a little poetic, isn’t it?” He touched his thigh—still bandaged. Sure. Fucking poetic.

locked in a wordless conversation. I knew it was the truth. He knew I knew it. I hated that he knew I knew it.

I knew it was the truth. He knew I knew it. I hated that he knew I knew it.

We both knew it. He knew I knew it. He hated that I knew he knew it.

“And you’ll be easy to kill, when the Halfmoon is over.” It was legitimately satisfying to just hear someone say it out loud.

He groaned. “Why is it always me? Why is it never your name they’re screaming through the sun-cursed door?”

“It’s a little my concern, isn’t it? Allies and all.”

So, we trained together. It went… differently than I expected. “What in the seven fucking hells is wrong with you?” Worse. So much worse.

You’ll be easy to kill later, he had told me. Like hell I would.

This was a mistake. All of it. I should’ve just bled out in the greenhouse

He took another step forward, and again, I took one back. “Get away from me,” I hissed. And he said quietly, “No.” Another step. I hit the wall.

“Fuck it. What’s immortality if we don’t use it to do the same things over and over again, forever, until the end of time?”

“I have my ways.” I could hear the smirk in Raihn’s voice. “Very dangerous, very clever, very impressive ways.”

“That’s a fairytale,” I said. He let out a sour, humorless chuckle. “You really just… don’t ever let up, do you? You never accept a win?”

“Centuries, and it never gets any less repulsive. Never fucking fades.” I wanted to say, Good.

From this spot, three different worlds collided: prey, predator, and the gods.

“You cannot accomplish anything in this world without power,” he said. “And power requires sacrifice, focus, and ruthlessness.”

I thought that perhaps if we were very, very lucky, Raihn and I could manage not to kill each other, but I hadn’t expected that we would work well together.

“There’s no bonding like bonding over murder,” Raihn said dryly.

“Maybe we’ve built more of a reputation for ourselves than we expected.”
“Even more terrifying than we thought,”

“You’re worried about my self-control? How sweet.” He leaned close enough that I felt his words skitter over my cheek. I didn’t know why I didn’t move. “I have plenty of self-control, Oraya,” he murmured. “Don’t you worry about me.”

“Impressive,” I said. “Thank you. I’ve had plenty of practice drinking terrible alcohol.”

“Maybe I was right to distrust you in the beginning. You have so many different versions of yourself.”
“Oh, they’re all me.”

“Never make deathbed promises, Oraya. Always bites you in the ass.”

“You alright?” I asked. “Define ‘alright.’”

I finished the last two stitches, then admired my handiwork. “How does it look?” he asked. I answered honestly. “Fucking awful.” He sighed. “Terrific.”

“The human and the cripple,” he murmured. “The others should be trembling in pure fucking terror.”

The laughter is what feels strange? That’s what goes too far for you? How fitting.