*
They had dinner.
Throughout it all, Rowan and Helios stared at him. There was not enough soap to scrub the remains of his pheromones off his body, and they knew he'd been masturbating, knew it from the tingles in their bond. The sweet little cries of an Omega needing to cum. But they didn't know of the madness, the battle in his mind was his true secret. And so, he ignored their eyes, choosing instead to stare at Quinn, enraptured by the tiny gas stove that had coloured her eyes a gorgeous dripping honey.
It was easier to just look without thinking.
She'd snuffed out the light of the fire, spooned out bowls of canned beef stew that tasted far too good to be rations. The stew was thick and well-spiced, bubbling with melting meat and creamy potatoes that could rival Elysian's culinary prowess. Celebrity chef shit, she'd said as if it explained everything. Helios and Rowan had their wounds all wrapped up and cleaned while he'd been fucking his hands like a maniac for an hour to just the thought of her voice.
It didn't matter, she didn't ask.
If she did, she didn't seem to say anything about his scent, sweet and dewy in the bathroom. So, all he had to deal with now was the holes that Helios and Rowan seemed to dig into him with their eyes. A coy smirk on the corner of Rowan's lips as if he understood, and a strange bashful shyness on Helios's cheeks.
But along with it was the judgment, pinned onto him with the knowing of what they must do, what they had done before to Euodia.
Zen would wait patiently until he could speak to her alone. He waited for her to lay out sleeping bags, padded far too thickly for comfort, tucking in Helios then Rowan. The two had downed medicine after dinner, the drugs pulling them deeper into slumber. But they didn't seem to care, too comfortable in their little beds swathed in her delicious scent. Everything that she created seemed lightly flavoured with the sweetness of her peach.
He cornered her as she left the bathroom, confusion sparking in her eyes. But her expression eased quickly. "You're taking first watch, aren't you?"
"First watch?" he echoed. It seemed that she couldn't smell the overpowering scent of him in the bathroom.
"You don't trust me?" she murmured, voice soft for the sleeping duo. "I don't blame you. I said I wasn't an alien, but I might as well be one after what I've exposed."
"I do trust you," he said. "Helios's a fairy, he'll know if you lie. And we know you."
"Of course," she said, wet hands on her clothes. She'd changed into something soft, a t-shirt that covered her to her thighs. He liked it, liked the way it settled upon her curves, liked the way it softened her. Months ago, he could hold her close and feel nothing but bliss. "So, what do you need?"
He pursed his lips together. "I'm not here for blood. I don't want it." It was true, the thought of drinking from her repulsed him despite the hunger, aching in his belly.
"Yeah?" There was doubt flecked in her eyes, but she didn't seem to want to push.
"I've got questions." Zen's voice erupted from him before he could stifle the question that burned in his mind. His thoughts swivelled, settling on one, one that seemed far more important than the rest. "Euodia. What is that name to you?" The moment his words were out from his lips, something seemed to slam down within her. Walls drawn up in her eyes, the look she gave him was void of emotion.
"Your princess. The person everyone hates, the one you've all killed. The mass murderer. The psychopath."
Zen struggled, questions on his tongue. "Do you think—"
"I could be her? Yeah," she admitted without a question. There was a strange flash in her eyes, something breaking, some kind of acceptance. A rage that was directed at him. And suddenly, Zen felt as if he had made a mistake not having Helios here. His fey instincts were quiet, too quiet, as if they didn't want him to know the truth that could break his mind. "But you all don't seem to recognise her on my face. And she's dead."
"Yeah," he told her. "We killed her with our own hands." They did. They made sure of it; her heart had been ripped out from her chest. But if Quinn had come from a distant past, then—
"So do you care?" Her question was sharp, laced with fire. She turned to him, now enraged, anger pulsing in the air to create a spicy sort of peach.
"About what?"
"That I look like her?"
His lashes fluttered, a sudden pinch growing into a tidal wave of pain.
"Would you kill me if this body were hers?" Her words were poison, stabbing into him with rage in her eyes. There was accusation, there was sorrow. There was a tremble in her eyes that broke him down.
"I…" The words caught in his throat.
She sagged, a sigh exhaled through her lips. "Do you want the truth?"
There was a stumble as he leaned away from her, expression suddenly breaking. God, what did he want from this? What was he doing? He exhaled heavily. There was no point asking her those questions. The truth was…He already knew her answer.
His heart trembled. And the true question he wanted to ask was different, so fucking different…He swivelled then, mind suddenly locking to a thought that drifted to the forefront of his mind. "You told me about soulmates. What is that to you?"
And that seemed to clamp her up further, surprise widening in her eyes. Then schooled into a coldness he'd never seen before. "It's a custom in my home." She seemed to test the words out as if afraid. The resignation was now gone, twisting into a strange rage.
"You told me it was true." His heart pounded, pounded as his words flew. "You told me that it meant more than what it was in our world, not a generous term of endearment. You told me that one will die if the other dies. That it is two halves of a soul. You said it like it was all real."
"It's irrelevant in this world."
"It was real in your world. It was real for you. And you could run from us," Zen pressed. "Why stay if you have this monster of an ability? Why are you caring for Helios and Rowan like they're yours? You could leave us behind. You could leave me behind."
"Fuck," her snort was loud, laughter wicked. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Not everyone's a damn murderer." But there was a strange fear in her gaze, and everything seemed to fall.
"You hate us," Zen responded almost teary, vision murky, a panic attack rising. Alpha. His Omega panted. Alpha's mad at us. "What you're doing is stupid. You could have left me with weapons. It would have been enough. You're taking us with you. Why?"
"You know the answer," Quinn said. "I'm a fucking idiot, that's why. I'm an idiot that likes to save people that I should hate. Fuck, I'm a dumbass who's saving the people who are after my life. Maybe, I'm doing it because of Elysian. Maybe, I can't stand the bond, alright? Maybe, I want him to be happy."
Zen flinched at that, chest feeling as if it might grow crushed.
"Touchy subject?" she guessed with an almost sneer. "You hate it that I've marked him, don't you?"
"No," Zen shook his head. "I just hate it that it wasn't me."
Her mouth fell open. "The fuck?"
"Quinn," he pleaded. His voice crumbling into something too warm, too needy. Suddenly the clarity was sharper than ever. "Alpha, I-I don't think my Omega needs my mates. I don't think I was meant for them. I don't think I'm theirs." There was alarm in her eyes, a wideness that grew.
"You're not thinking straight. Zen, come on—"
"I've thought about it for so long." Tears were blurring his vision, a strange sensation erupting from his throat, boiling in his heart. "I thought about it until you were dead."
"I didn't die."
"To me you did. And I think that's where I broke. I let you go, and then I was dying." His hands shook. "Oh, I didn't tell them about it. I couldn't. I couldn't tell them about how I felt, what I felt. What my body wanted. I couldn't even tell them about it. They'll make you die again for me."
"Zen," her voice was steady, her hands clamped to his shoulder. "Zen, calm down. Breathe, Goddamn it, breathe." He was shuddering through each inhale, body numbed and shaking like a storm. "I will answer your questions, just calm down."
"Am I—" he swallowed down his words, knowing that he would not like the next part. Zen knew he was going to be rejected; he knew she would never accept him the way he wanted her to. And that had utter despair crawling to the surface of his mind, exploding in his chest. "Am I your soulma—"
It was then when a flood of wetness spewed from his tongue, dribbled down his front. Vaguely, there was a shudder within him as he stared down at what he believed to be vomit, only for his eyes to spot the darkness that reflected the gentle light of the moon.
Ink.
He just vomited ink.
And a violent rage swept through his vision like a storm.
Read ahead on
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/tinyeyecat
Inkitt Subscription: https://www.inkitt.com/tinyeyecat