by Elena Monroe
“Yes. Bowey,” she muttered between us when we tried to catch our breath.
“Evey.”
Her palms were pressing lightly against my chest stopping me from pushing into her so deeply, I felt like I might break her.
“I want to be in control.” She wasn’t asking permission when my hips stopped, and I studied her features carefully.
She was always in control; did she not know that?
Backing away enough to leave her feeling empty, I wrapped my hand around myself, dragging my hand down my own length in a closed fist. “I’d give you anything you want, Evey.”
Dropping down to the floor in front of the chair, I pressed my back into the lounge chair waiting for her to climb on top of me.
I could see her mind working when she sauntered over, dropping slowly to her knees, crawling until she straddled my lap.
Raising her hips, I guided myself inside her, keeping my fist there until she adjusted and settled. “Anything?” She whispered into the air, placing her hands on my shoulders for stability.
Looking around at my destroyed library, I could see unopened letters, plane tickets, endless contracts, and every other piece of evidence that I would do anything for her.
Anything.
Everything.
Grabbing a handful of her ass, I pushed her hips forward on top of my lap with a groan. “Anything, Evey.”
She kept rolling her hips on top of mine, getting all of me coated in her wetness again, her features collapsing into ecstasy already.
“I want you to forgive yourself, Bowey.” The words came out breathy, absorbed from riding me.
I didn’t agree because I couldn’t make a promise I didn’t know if I could keep. Instead I cupped her face and gave her my tongue inside her mouth until neither of us could be teased by an orgasm anymore.
Holding her tightly, hips still, I groaned into her the crook of her neck while every part of my dick shook inside her, emptying. “Fuck, Evey.”
Ripping the blanket down from the chair behind me, I wrapped it around her shoulders like someone might see her. Hell, I’d keep her from God’s watchful eye too.
“Do you have a knife?” She asked me still on my lap.
Looking around at everything on the floor, I knew I had the knife I used to cut her stepdad the day he took her away here among all the memories. Leaning over, I spotted the silver glimmer against the light when my fingers reached for it.
Grasping the cold metal, I held it up between us. “Better yet, I’m pretty sure this is yours.”
Popping the switchblade open, I watched her eyes go wide, sparkling with excitement when she asked me for my hand.
“Promise me, no more lies or secrets.” She held the blade above my finger where she always used to prick my soft skin with a blade and make a dramatic promise.
Promise wasn’t the right word—it was an oath before we knew what those were.
My hands were full of faded scars from all the blood oaths we had done as kids.
“Promise,” I said quietly, hoping it was one I could keep. My job doesn’t allow much transparency, and I’ve seen beyond the curtain glamor of this being just a cult.
The blood bloomed on my fingertip before she pushed the tip of my finger to her lips.
We used to press our bloody parts together, consuming the other but this was intimate in a new way. Almost erotic when all my feelings about it dropped down to my crotch.
Taking the knife from her, I pressed it into her finger, watching the blood pulse from her skin before doing the same thing. Sucking off the blood from her finger, I smirked at her constantly trying to remind me of our childhood, even in this moment. I loved her for it.
She was goofy, sexy, and strong. A tomboy who liked shades of blue but wore lingerie like it was constructed solely for her. None of her ran from her trauma or forgot how to live while surviving— she held onto me until happiness had no choice but to be taken hostage.
She demanded a happy ending.
Eve’s eyebrows dipped in alarm when she realized the exact thing I knew she would. “My tattoo. The butterfly. That wasn’t a blood oath because we didn’t need one. We did our blood oath so many times as kids.”
A mischievous grin made my lips take up space on my face, more than normal.
Between a yawn she hit my arm. “Already breaking promises and blood oaths?”
She was right, I was already breaking promises. It’s who I am now. The truth is always too painful for the world, so I got comfortable with secrets, lies, hiding everything that matters to me just to keep it safe.
I was never going to be guilt-free.
I was never going to be restored to some version of me that understands how to be happy.
Inside Eve, my heaven, it’s easy to believe I can be saved. But outside of her, it’s easy to get swallowed up by all the ways Satan owns my soul.
If I were a few minutes later today, would I have been too late to save her from Elias?
That kind of guilt doesn’t get to be redeemed. I’m the guy who doesn’t get to forget who I am just because I found a happy ending. One I never lost and yet I still lost my ability to let it heal me.
EVE
Two Weeks Later…
Bowen had been drunk for days on end. Drinking himself numb until he could barely crawl into bed next to me. There wasn’t much of him left; syllables fading from his name, leaving behind Bo instead of my Bowey. I took what I could get even if that was sex laced with alcohol and hands that stopped being timid of my body.
I was making my way through his library and now I was onto Donte’s Inferno, the only story on his shelves that wasn’t traditionally considered a romance. It seemed too out of place to not be important so I figured it was a great starting point.
Severus Snake was curled up in his favorite mug on the nightstand under the heat of the lamp, always by my side, everywhere I went.
The papers sticking out like an oversized bookmark caught my eye when I opened the book more than halfway and turned it over, making sure I didn’t lose the page number. I knew just from looking at it that this wasn’t Bowen’s perfect cursive that seemed slightly angry but still decadent.
This was Braedon’s chicken scratch dug into the white paper that had been discolored and worn down with age.
Bowen,
You were kept in the light for most of your life, and if you’re reading this then I’m not here anymore.
Sucked up by the darkness that’s always been in the back of my mind, tempting me and seducing me to take it one step too far.
You’re probably wondering why I did what I did. I’m writing this before it's done so I can’t tell you how I decided to go when I’ve had more than one plan since I turned ten. It’s not an easy answer. My hand is shaking writing this, and the booze leaking from my eyes stings with regret already but I know better.
There’s no light in my life to make me stick around.
Eve was never promised to you.
Turning eighteen would mean slaughtering your heart by marrying the one person you consider your everything.
She was promised to whoever became the horsemen, lucky for us it was always going to be me.
I was always the strength you lacked, the anger you refused to lean into, the danger they desired, and the damage they predicted.
I wanted to find a way to save her for you. Save you both from the certain hell of this life. Everything comes with a price.
It’s a steep one, brother.
To save Eve, you’ll have to save yourself. And you’ll have to save yourself every damn day of the life I’m handing you on a silver platter. That’s the price.
How badly do you want Eve, Bowen? Enough to die a little each day and still survive?
You will be a horseman, whatever the fuck that truly means, and you will be taking over my life like you are absorbing my death and everything I am. You will take over my life like the burden it is, but you will get the love you deserve.
&
nbsp; Love I can’t and won’t accept.
I’m darkness but you have always been the light, Bowen. Don’t forget that.
- Your evil side
I watched a fat teardrop land on the paper and explode trying to reach the ink of his words that I felt branding into my soul.
Braedon didn’t end his life selfishly; he ended his life to save ours.
He handed me angel wings and handed Bowen horns.
Tucking the paper where it was before I closed Donte’s Inferno, I tried to regain composure. Braedon made sure to leave Bowen the purification in his note, all the words were right here: survive and save yourself every day.
Purifying his soul came with a heavy heart full of guilt that wouldn’t ever allow him to repent. He carried the guilt that wasn’t his to bear. Guilt I was learning to let go of and let myself heal from before it ate me whole.
Slipping down under the covers even more, I held my arms to my chest counting all the ways that were pinning Bowen to hell. The list was longer than I probably really knew, and it would burn him alive if only someone gave him a match.
It didn’t matter how drunk he was, he always somehow poured himself into bed every night. Crawling over the covers and wrestling with his pillows. Every time I watched him fight with everything around him the same pang of jealousy filled my rib cage. I wanted to be who he fought with, who he noticed in the room, who his hands grasped the way he did that pillow. I would swallow hard and rub my thighs together like it would help the burning go away. Nothing helps the urge when you crave him; it’s a feeling that could drive you mad and have you contemplating his lifestyle if it numbs desire down too.
Stumbling into the room, he crawled over my body still under the blankets and his arm muscles tensed while holding himself above me. “I know that look… Why do you look so needy, Evey?”
His hot breath licked my ear in a swift kind of seduction. I didn’t need much persuading; I was on the verge of sneaking my own fingers inside myself if he wasn’t coming to bed soon.
It was all he had been giving me—the parts of himself he didn’t care much about. I selfishly took whatever I could get like the heathen he made me feel like.
“I always need you.” I could feel my chest tighten knowing I needed him in every way.
His body dipped lower, grazing mine the way that made me wetter. “I’ve been fucking you every night and you still want more?”
Yes, because it’s never enough.
Yes, because you do things to me that I can’t grasp onto when you aren’t touching me.
Yes, because when I come I do see a glimpse of heaven.
My back arched trying to close the mere inches between our bodies from under the blankets, violence urging my bones to take what I wanted from him. “Yes,” my voice whimpered even though I wanted more than for him to fuck me.
I wanted his heart, soul, body, and his forever.
Pushing back into his knees his hand closed around the blankets and slowly pulled them down when the liquor on his breath lingered in the air. “Never satisfied are you, Evey? You always want me to come undone at your hands.”
I swallowed and let my mouth fall open when his fingers skimmed down the center of my body so gracefully it felt holy instead of sinful.
I wasn’t wearing anything, not even panties. I knew he’d give into me eventually, and I was always ready for him.
“So innocent and yet so corrupted, aren’t you, baby?” Getting comfortable between my legs, I felt how hard he was against the inside of my leg through the thin fabric of his underwear. It became his new drinking uniform: a silk robe that belonged to me and Versace briefs.
Pushing the robe down his arms, I watched it get caught on his muscles that didn’t seem to disappear with his bender. Shaking it the rest of the way off, I bent my knees letting them rub his hips in a desperate way that begged for more.
The pad of his thumb brushed my lips. “Looks like an angel but acts like the devil. My soul is already burning eternally, baby girl. There’s no saving me.”
His free hand palmed himself through the fabric, and his face pinched in relief before he pushed the band down on his boxer briefs. Falling out, enraged and hard as steel, he watched up through his lashes at my reaction with a smirk.
Mulling over my full bottom lip, half of me wanted to debate how he would break me this time and the other half was thrilled to be broken by him no matter how he chose to fill me.
“Bowen just fuck me already.” My hands reached for him until he fell over my body, catching himself with his hands before we collided.
The huskiness of his voice drowned out all of my senses until all I could feel was the pulsing in my clit and the burning in the pit of my stomach that needed him to soothe. “What’s the rush, Evey? Maybe I want to take my time with you. Make you beg.”
Opening my legs wider, I felt his tip nudge its way against my entrance while I swore I got drunk off the smell of the liquor on his lips. His lips pressed to mine gently, head bowing between his shoulders, letting his tongue slip into my mouth.
Okay, now I was really drunk off him.
In one motion, Bowen drove his hips into mine and I exhaled into his mouth when every inch felt too big to take, too angry and too broken.
He used to be silent and insecure, but now he fucked me like he was meant to. The confidence leaked from his pours when he started to create a pace that was drawn out and slow enough to make my whole body pulse.
Smoothing up my arms, his fingers laced with mine, dragging my hands up to the headboard to take what little control I had left. All of me arched into Bowen when my moans got stifled in my throat, choked and strained.
“You’ll never stop loving me, will you? Even though I’m doomed.” His thrusts were punishingly brutal, and I felt him deeper than I ever had. He was penetrating parts of me that would never recover or heal.
Bowen was a sickness, an addition, a scar, a cure—all in one. I would never recover and it was a vicious cycle.
I was breathing heavily through my own words. “No, I’ll never stop loving you, Bowen. Doomed, damned, or redeemed.” Catching my lips, I moaned around his tongue dancing with mine and dug my fingers into his hands.
Dropping his head from my mouth, he left kisses down my chest until his lips closed around my hard nipple and I felt his teeth gently grate against my sensitive skin. I inhaled instead exhaling the minute I tripped over the surprise orgasm.
My legs stilled, my lower back steeled, my hands tightened and all of me came undone. I was hot lava inside, and I swore he was going to get burned if he touched me. “Coming for me already? I’m starting to build forbearance for you, Evey.”
Pushing him down, I kept our hands laced while I got comfortable straddling his lap the way I knew he couldn’t take. He liked being in control after having it ripped from his life, but he liked being ruined by me when I took control from him even more.
Maybe it replaced his bad memories.
“Forbearance?” Swaying my hips on top of him, I let them roll forward and the moans in my chest felt heavy as I released them into his mouth. Trailing kisses down to his neck, I whispered into his ear, making him moan. “I’m your only weakness, Bowen. Your damnation… and your redemption.”
Taking control back, I felt him pin one hand to my hip and the other behind my back as he sat up. With my hand behind my back still laced in his fingers, he kept me close, pushing and pulling my hips at a quicker pace.
“Always, Evey. I would go to hell for you just to keep your halo,” his voice was breathy, and his chest heaved into my breasts. He was close to coming undone and it felt like a rite of passage to see him give in.
Working my hips faster, I felt myself tighten around his thickness until I melted deeper on top of him. I felt like lava again and it overtook my senses.
Twisting my other hand behind my back, his grip tightened and held me still while I felt him fill me. I swore the drunkenness I felt off of Bowen was shifting into blacking out
, and I didn’t care if it meant I would feel this longer.
Pressed against each other, he dropped the grip on my hands and wrapped his arms around me. I was merciless against his strength when he moved and I was curled up against him, his arm over my hip, yanking the blanket up around us.
He held me like this until my eyes fluttered closed against his heat.
Bowen was the one getting drunk every night, yet I was saddled with waking up in the middle of the night to throw up everything I ate that day without even forcing myself too.
I no longer subscribed to the idea of hugging porcelain just to keep myself safe. I didn’t have to keep myself safe anymore; I was already saved.
I was enjoying getting reacquainted with food, playing videos to walk me through cooking to discovering what my taste buds were salivating for. Sometimes I felt guilty for eating too much, but I would talk myself off the ledge. My demons were dead and I wasn’t creating more in their place.
My stomach clenched and twisted in a painful way while the tile dug into my knees. I knew something was wrong, my gut told me so when I was doing everything right and still kneeling at this altar.
My virginity was checked monthly but my fertility only every few months. When I dropped down to double numbers instead of triple, the doctor’s appointments always ended the same way: I was infertile.
It was always a relief even with my mind hiding exactly why. My body rejected the possibility of Elias getting me knocked up in the off chance it could happen. I never considered it a fluke only because I was walking on the side of death instead of thriving.
Standing in the mirror, examining myself and the small amount of weight I put on, I tried to diagnose myself with anything else.
I knew in my heart something was wrong… or right depending on how you view two fucked up people, one demon and one angel, being pregnant.
This is supposed to be our happy ending.
Why not end with a redemption pregnancy?
I tossed and turned all night contemplating how I should feel. I wanted to feel happy but when your husband is on a one-way track to self-destruction, it doesn’t make telling him any easier. I could blurt it out that I think I’m pregnant and risk him forgetting a few bottles into the next day.