Chapter 6

Devlin's Pov

Selene, on the verge of brokenness, isn’t a sight for sore eyes. There is beauty in it. There's something darkly satisfying about the way her hair falls over her face, strands sticking to her cheeks like an attempt at comfort she doesn’t deserve.

Her head hangs a little low, her defiance toned down. I know the moment she senses me. Her shoulder tenses, her head lifts ever so slightly, and she looks in my direction. Her eyes take a moment to register me and then, like a switch flipping, the defiance roars back full force.

I chuckle, letting the sound roll through the room. Excitement buzzes in every of my muscle. My little kitten will never break for me.

I move away from the door, deeper into the room. I don’t bother scanning it; every instrument of torture, every rope, every whip, and every painful contraption has been mapped and memorized long ago. Some I favor. Some I use only for fun. But tonight isn’t about the tools, so I ignore them. Tonight's about my little kitten.

My eyes never leave Selene as I walk toward her, deliberately slow, every step a small declaration of control. I stop in front of her and grin.

“Hey, little kitten.” My grin widens. “Miss me?”

She doesn’t answer. Typical. I lean closer, almost into her space, smirking into her eyeballs. I inhale lightly and freeze for a second. That scent…

Burnt vanilla. Sweet, soft, warm.

Draven purrs low in my chest. His eyes roll behind his head. I don’t blame him, there is something oddly intoxicating about vanilla.

To think that is the most useless flavor. And I hate it with every fiber in my being.

In a normal situation, with a normal girl, I would look into why a scent I hate so much is madly intoxicating me.

I straighten quickly, clearing my throat, and move behind her. Draven growls, low and furious, objecting to what I’m about to do. Like I’m going to do anything. I just want to see her back. I come to a stop abruptly, my breathe getting stuck in my throat.

Her back…

Her back… Every inch is covered with bleeding welts. Every stroke is done with maddening precision.

A work of art.

Vey has outdone himself.

I have to capture it. My lips move, whispering the spell the High Witch taught me to capture a moment. A click. Once. Twice. Perfect. I smile at the image. It belongs in a historical place in a gold frame.

“Beautiful,” I murmur to myself. I pocket the phone. “Do you know how many beautiful strokes your back has, kitten?” I say, picking up the whip Vey must have used; it lies on the table.

I circle her slowly, watching her shift against her restraints, every movement a small rebellion. Draven growls again, warning me. I ignore him. As far as Selene is concerned, he’ll protest.

I move back in front of her, letting the whip in my hand hang lazily. I flick it against the floor. A faint hiss of leather. She flinches, her eyes closing.

Good.

The cracks are forming.

How long before Selene Caelum finally breaks for me?

I wish I could see her broken before the ritual is ready. Severing the link between her wolf and her will ultimately breaks her, but if she breaks before then… it’s a victory. I win.

Her eyes flare, nostrils flaring. The scent of her fear mingles with that faint trace of vanilla, overwhelming. Draven growls, scratching at our link, trying to take over, begging me to stop, to relent. I hum, amused.

I trace a finger along one of the fresh welts, letting her flinch under the faintest touch. I follow a welt that comes over her shoulder, her hair getting in the way. I pack her hair, losing the hair tie from my own hair and tying hers.

I pack my long hair into a messy bun and resume. I notice for the first time she’s just in her underwear. Her mammary glands are decorated with welts too. Vey did a very nice job.

“Why do you hate me?” Her voice is low and coarse. It also carries a weird sense of brokenness and hurt.

For a moment, I forget the question. For a moment, I am rooted in place. For a moment, the hurt in her eyes annoys me.

Moon-fucking momentarily, I want to hold her.

Draven stills. He says nothing. He watches me like he’s scared to break whatever trance I’m in.

My hands move by their own accord, caressing her face slowly, downward. She blinks once, then twice, and as my hands trail her face, down to her lips, she bites me.

Moonly fuck.

Draven laughs. His deep laughter vibrates within me. I pull my hands back and glare at her. I start rushing forward, my hand ready to choke the life out of her.

Dead Selene solves everyone’s problem.

“Especially yours.” Draven snickers. I seriously hate my wolf.

“Devlin.” Vey calls, stopping me. “We are ready.”

Happiness is such a subliminal thing; till it's felt at the exact moment, it makes the most sense.

I have no idea what I just said, but karma is sweet. I don’t need to strangle her. She would do it herself.

Humans are the least species on the food chain. Lycans use them for their life force for certain moon oaths; witches use them as sacrifice, and vampires for their blood.

Selene won’t be able to survive being human.

I hope I’m the last person she sees when she pushes herself off a cliff. I could help her do it.

I watch as Vey unties her, and she falls into him. I follow. We arrive back at the throne room. I wonder why it’s called that; ShadowCrest isn’t a kingdom.

The Alpha and Luna are already seated. A couple of witches chant in the corner, different witch symbols decorating the floor. The roof of the room has been… taken off?

I look up… How? Did they take off the roof for the ceremony? Or can they open it and close it?

Magic? These witches are outdoing themselves. I squint my eyes, trying to make sense of it.

“Devlin.”

The urgency in Luna’s voice makes me abandon my quest, and I take my seat.

Using the moonstones, a witch directs the moonlight so only the symbols on the floor are illuminated; the rest of the room goes pitch dark.

Then slowly, every werewolf allows their wolf to illuminate their eyes. If only I could capture this moment. The beauty of the moonstone illuminating symbols and the different shades of wolves’ eyes.

Surreal.

I don’t bother channeling my wolf’s eyes though. Draven is useless in the dark. He has black eyes. I’m the one with the hazel eyes. And they’re still useless in the dark.