60

THEA

The silence that follows is deafening.

I sit on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, wrapped in Ezra’s shirt like it’s armor—but it’s not. It’s a wound. It’s soaked in the scent of him—woodsmoke, heat, something sinful—and it clings to me like a second skin I didn’t ask for.

I can still feel him inside me.

Still taste him in my mouth.

Still feel the ghost of his hands between my thighs like a sin I asked to be forgiven for after I committed it.

I hate myself more than I hate him.

And I hate him plenty.

“Leave,” I whisper, even though my voice barely makes it past the sob lodged in my throat.

Ezra doesn’t move at first. Just stands there, bare-chested and beautiful and broken-looking, like he wants to argue. Like he wants to ask why. Like he’s hoping I’ll change my mind if he just stays long enough.

But I can’t let him.

Not now.

Not while I still feel soft.

Right now, I need to be alone so I could drown in my miserability in peace.

“Please,” I add, hugging my knees tighter.

He hesitates. Then nods once. The kind of nod that looks like surrender. Or heartbreak. Or both.

I don't know vampires had hearts.

“I will be back.” He mutters.

And then… he leaves.

But then, I know. Even if he's not back, I'll seek him out. God, I feel like he took my soul during that sex and I hate this feeling.

It's love.

Pure, ugly, and so achingly devastating and beautiful in all it's glory.

Love.

And now, it's different. Like I was in highschool again, swooning over book characters, over cute seniors that are taller than me or even spares me a glance more than two times.

I don't expect to suddenly recognise my feelings for Ezra harrington. But now, I can't lie to myself anymore.

I love that bastard.

Even though it's the kind of love that ruins.

I inhale a shuddering breath, my eyes raking the scene. The shattered coffee table still lies in pieces across the floor. My head throbs from the bruise when I was knocked to the wall earlier, during the Nytherin spirit…

What do I call it again?

Possession?

Illusion?

God. I don't even know.

But it isn't the wreckage of my new home, or the bruise at the back of my head, that hurts the most.

It's the emotional shrapnel Ezra left in my chest after that kiss… and everything that followed.

I don't even mind that I saw a Nytherin — a creature I've never seen before or known existed, or that I might continue seeing it, considering the fact that the bastard marked me even though he said unknowingly and unintentionally. It wasn't even the fact that his fingernails had formed into claws. That I saw his fangs. That I saw him when he didn't look polish… or human.

I should've been terrified.

But I wasn't.

Because what scared me more was how much I still wanted him.

Even then.

Even now.

I don't cry. My eyes burn but no tears fall. Maybe because I'm too tired. Or maybe because crying would mean acknowledging that I'm not as indifferent or immune to him as I pretend to be.

It would mean I crave him in the same breath I resent him.

So instead, I stagger to my feet, slowly, arms aching, body sore in places I don't want to think about as I drop his shirt. I shuffle past the wreckage, up the stairs, straight into the bathroom in my room, pushing the curtains open and stepping into the scalding heat of the shower.

It doesn't help.

The water washes away the blood, the sweat, the scent, but it doesn't touch the ache in my chest, or burn away the love which has fully bloomed probably due to how long I've ignored it.

And by the time I slip into my bed, hair still damp, body bare beneath the sheets, I know.

It's not over.

It never is.

I don't want it to be.

Not yet.

Not when I finally feel alive. And… dead.

My eyes slowly flutter. But I can't afford to fall apart–not anymore. Because I'm still a mother.

Finn still exists. Still needs me. And Shirley had taken my place for the weekend, yes, but only temporarily. I need to check on my son. I need to be his mother no matter how much I want to lie here and unravel.

With trembling fingers, I reach for my phone.

One missed call from Lyra. A text from Shirley.

SHIRLEY: Hey, love. All good here. Finn's asleep at Leo's. They had a movie night and played on the trampoline. He's asking for you though. Let me know if you want to call him in the morning.

My throat tightens.

I'll call tomorrow and hear his voice. And feel how it lights up my entire world again.

Because right now, being his mother is the only thing I want to be sure of.

So, I text her back,

ME: Hi Shirley! I'll hit you up first thing tomorrow morning. Sleep tight. (kisses emoji)

I text Lyra too.

ME: Hey booboo! I know you miss me lol. But don't worry, okay. I'll hit you up tomorrow and we'll talk, no Finn this time though. He's at a friend's. (Black moon emoji)

I sigh heavily and drop my phone beside me before burying my head in the pillow and letting everything out in the form of tears.