by Lex Chase
Ringo gave the thumbs-up. “Got it. I’ll go make myself scarce.”
“Thanks.” Taylor raised his fist, and Ringo punched his knuckle in return.
“Good luck,” Ringo muttered and popped into a puff of golden glitter. The shimmering pixie dust showered to the carpet like a firework, bringing a hint of beauty to the mess of Corentin’s thoughts keeping hold on their quarters.
The sight outside the window changed; no longer the rain and broken motel sign, it was now the frozen ruin of Tulane, with snow far into the gray foggy horizon.
“The snow is not melting,” Corentin said quietly.
Taylor didn’t respond. The view had changed because Corentin decided to see? Did he decide to acknowledge the situation?
“I’ve long tuned it out, but you can hear the cries of the exposed mundanes from here. You can hear them everywhere,” Corentin said, then massaged his temples. “And they never stop screaming.” He clenched his fist and continued to watch out the window. “We can’t help them. Nothing we do helps. This is bigger than us.”
Taylor moved closer with carefully measured steps, as if he’d come upon a stray dog. He listened to Corentin empty his thoughts. It wasn’t emptying—it was opening up and finally letting Taylor in.
“Your Blooming Lullaby can’t heal them. You can’t even use it anymore without nearly killing yourself.” Corentin’s tone wasn’t defeatist, but instead, realistic. He sighed and his shoulders sank. “What are we doing? You came for Atticus. I came for me. And we have neither.”
Taylor took a breath. “I know about the police application.” He let the words fall between them, sinking into the moldy carpet.
Corentin didn’t respond. The silence filled in, creating a crushing weight in Taylor’s heart.
“I know about the police application,” Taylor repeated.
“Why?” Corentin’s tone shifted into one of desperation. “Why couldn’t you leave it alone? Why couldn’t you leave any of this alone?” He turned to face Taylor. Anger and anguish reflected in his dark eyes. Taylor broke out in a cold sweat. “Why couldn’t it be simple?” Corentin continued. “Why couldn’t our lives be easy? Why do we have to do this? Why us?” He shrugged. “Save the world without barely a thank-you? You can’t have a normal relationship with your father?” He took a step forward, but this time Taylor stood strong.
“Aliss said so herself. The Storytellers wrote it into our destinies,” Taylor said as Corentin came closer. “All of it is predetermined. It’s what we do with it that is our choice.”
Corentin seemed bewildered by his logic, but his bewilderment turned to anger. “Do you even know what I’ve done? What I do?” He snorted and tossed out a hand. “Have you missed our last two years together?”
“I haven’t missed a moment. Take that as you will.” Taylor growled. “I know you’re not that person anymore. You are not the sum of your parts. You can be who you want to be. You can be better. Every day you can be better.” He closed the distance between them. “What was that you told Lacey? You might fail, but you choose to start again. You always choose to start again.” He searched Corentin’s face. “With the Library, you can do that.”
Corentin ran his hands through his wet hair and then laced his fingers behind his head. “Stop lying to yourself,” he spat.
Taylor shook his head and refused to back away. “The only one lying here is you. Why are you doing this? I’m here for you. We’re a team. We’ve always been a team.”
Corentin retreated, brushing past Taylor as he escaped to the other side of the room.
Taylor didn’t follow. Instead, he called after him. “Let me help you. Let Aliss help you. We will find a way to break your curse. It will be okay.”
“Okay?” Corentin paced like a caged tiger. “Okay? How the fuck can you say it’ll be okay?”
“Because—” Taylor snapped and flicked out his right hand. He blinked, feeling the cool metal of a dagger hilt against his palm. He looked down at the sacrificial dagger Aliss had given him and smiled brokenly. His eyes welled with bittersweet tears. “Because,” he croaked and held up the blade. “It’s my heart that will set you free.”
Corentin danced back. “What the fuck is that?” he snapped, giving Taylor a wide berth.
Taylor wiped his watering eyes and smiled. The time had finally come, and as the moments ticked by, he made peace that his sacrifice would be for the greater good.
“Aliss told me…,” Taylor said, his voice soft and patient. “Aliss told me that if I made the sacrifice of true love, you’d be free.” He smiled at Corentin, his face wet with tears he couldn’t stop. “And now this is your chance. Even after I’m gone, I’ll watch over you.”
“Are you insane?” Corentin rumbled. “You’d kill yourself for me? This isn’t the way!”
“It’s the only way!” Taylor cried as he trembled. “You’re supposed to do it. It’s the rules. Cut out my heart and you’ll be free.”
“I’m not going to kill you, Taylor.” Corentin’s voice was an even warning.
Taylor gulped down a need to openly sob. “You have to. Don’t you see? You have to!” He raised the blade point to his chest. “Just drive it in. You can do this.”
Corentin was in front of him in a blink, so close Taylor could feel the rage boiling from his body. He would have liked to have been brave enough to watch Corentin take his life, but instead he looked away and held the dagger steady at his chest. All Corentin had to do was push.
It’ll be over soon, Taylor convinced himself. It won’t hurt at all. The world will just go black. It won’t hurt.
Corentin’s hand rested on the dagger.
Taylor choked back a cry. Just a little push, he tried to urge Corentin. It’ll be okay. You’ll be free. It won’t hurt.
“Look at me.” Corentin’s voice was a low growl.
Taylor’s lip quivered and he kept his eyes screwed shut. His hands trembled around the dagger’s hilt. Anything he could have said died in his throat. All he could manage was a whispering squeak.
Corentin’s hand tightened on the dagger. “Look at me,” he thundered in warning.
The anticipation terrified Taylor. Was this the same thing Corentin did to his victims? Drag it out, make them understand what was happening to them? Taylor understood, only it was the heartbreak that he had to leave Corentin like this. He wouldn’t even be a memory. He’d just be a body on the floor in a filthy motel room.
Corentin seized Taylor by his lower jaw and forced their eyes to meet. “Look at me!” he bellowed, and the thunder boomed outside.
Taylor hyperventilated against Corentin’s palm. Every muscle in his body tensed.
Corentin jerked the dagger out of Taylor’s grip, and Taylor screeched, his fear getting the better of him. Corentin refused to let him go. Taylor cowered under his dark dominating glare. “This?” Corentin hissed as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. He held out the dagger, then flipped it end over end. “This is not for you.” He shoved Taylor away and flung the blade into the wall. The point impaled with a sickening crunch and scrape through layers of wallpaper and sheetrock.
Taylor stumbled back, but Corentin was at him again. Seizing Taylor by his wrists, Corentin jerked him forward, their bodies collided—Taylor fully clothed and cold, Corentin nude and smoldering. He yanked on Taylor again, then slammed him back into the wall next to the dagger.
Taylor barely caught his breath before Corentin took a fistful of his hair and snapped his head to get a better angle at his jugular. Corentin bit into the tender flesh, and Taylor gasped from the surge of heat sparking through his body.
Corentin wasn’t just a hunter; he was the beast. He held Taylor in his jaws, demanding submission.
Taylor sucked in quick shallow breaths, and Corentin’s fingers untangled from his hair and crept over his cheek. Corentin slipped his other hand up Taylor’s layers of shirts, his fingernails digging into his cold skin. Taylor gave in to Corentin’s silent demand and relaxed into him. C
orentin pulled away with a long scrape of teeth, but replaced his touch with a hot lick over the sore skin.
Taylor looped his arms around Corentin’s neck and claimed his mouth with the same ferocity of a dragoon slaying a demon. Corentin tasted of heat and spice. He traced his fingers over Corentin’s stomach, then ripped away the towel.
Corentin growled and forced Taylor’s hand away by pinning it over his head once again. Instead, Corentin ripped open the button with his free hand and then tore down the fly of Taylor’s jeans. He shoved his fingers into Taylor’s boxer briefs and took his shaft in hand.
Taylor dropped his head forward against Corentin’s shoulder as Corentin worked him into readiness.
“You couldn’t watch me kill you,” Corentin whispered in his ear. “But you’re going to watch me get you off.”
The timbre in Corentin’s tone reverberated in Taylor’s bones. He panted against Corentin’s demanding touch.
“Y-Yes….” Taylor’s lip trembled as he tried to quit crying from his fear and move on to letting the passion of the moment take him. “Fu-Fuck….” He returned the attentions in kind by taking Corentin’s half-hard cock and stroking him into full erection.
Corentin softly purred deep in his throat in approval of Taylor’s touch. “Look at me,” Corentin said in a breathy whisper.
Taylor obeyed. Eye to eye, they stared each other down while working toward climax. Taylor’s face heated, hot from Corentin’s intensity and sweating under his layers of clothes. Corentin’s expression was cold, unflinching, and only his quiet grunts in the back of his throat expressed his pleasure.
“So… hot…,” Taylor said as sweat collected on his forehead in large droplets. His thighs clenched in warning, and the first pricks stabbed into the base of his spine. “Corentin!” he tried to warn him, but was two seconds too late as he came into his hand.
Corentin wrapped his arm around Taylor’s waist and pulled him close as Taylor kept up with his hurried strokes. Taylor’s lashes fluttered, and as he tilted back his head, Corentin slanted his mouth against his. He seemed to understand Taylor was well spent and released him by stepping back.
Taylor glanced down at Corentin’s hardness and back at him. “You’re not done,” he apologized.
“No,” Corentin said and snatched Taylor’s wrist again. “I’m not.” He spun Taylor forward and tossed him at the bed. Taylor tripped and crashed against the edge of the mattress with his waist. He stood bent forward over the bed, and Corentin shifted behind him.
Without a word, Corentin shoved Taylor’s coat and shirts to his shoulders, then pulled his jeans and underwear to his ankles.
Taylor stiffened when he felt Corentin’s hand at his hip as Corentin yanked him back into a proper position. Corentin had every intent of fucking him like he was nothing but a means to an end. Like he was the lonely hunter and Taylor was yet another toy to pass the time until the next job. Or perhaps he was the job, and Corentin made sure to leave a memorable mark.
It seemed horrible, but Taylor found the idea exciting. Corentin and he had always made sex fun and often times funny when something didn’t work like it should. It also had tenderness and grace. Corentin never forgot he was with a princess, and their passion respected that.
Now, Corentin seemed to forget Taylor’s station. Instead, Taylor understood he was only a thing. He had longed for this moment. Corentin had always treated him with care, but Taylor wanted to see the violence just under Corentin’s skin.
Taylor wanted the hunter. He needed to be fucked like terrified prey.
He heard Corentin spit into his hand. And a moment later, his fingers smeared the saliva around Taylor’s entrance.
“Oh….” Taylor raised his head and groaned a long note as Corentin had the courtesy to work him open, albeit urgent and rough. Taylor shivered as Corentin pumped his fingers inside of him. “Yes…. Fuck… yes….” Taylor clutched the dirty sheets and listened as Corentin spit into his hand once again.
In silence, Corentin adjusted himself into position, then slowly entered Taylor only halfway. Taylor cried out in a needy mewl as Corentin reached forward and gripped Taylor’s shoulders. Without warning, Corentin slammed Taylor back onto him, impaling him on his cock. Taylor shrieked as Corentin kept hold and pounded into him like a meaningless thing.
The sharp pain gave way into scalding pleasure. Taylor looked over his shoulder at Corentin. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Corentin’s stern expression. Taylor recognized the moment of something he had once fetishized as the need for a strong Type-A, straight-laced personality to fuck his wild ways into submission.
“Fuck me…,” Taylor half squealed. “Harder…. Fuck me harder….”
Corentin wordlessly obliged Taylor, bucking furiously enough to almost shove him across the bed. He released Taylor’s shoulders, but then adjusted his grip on him by taking a fistful of Taylor’s hair and one of his arms. Corentin twisted Taylor’s arm and pinned him in place. Taylor unleashed a series of high-pitched wails with each breath.
“Quiet,” Corentin commanded and shoved Taylor’s face to the mattress.
Taylor howled into the stained sheets as Corentin stabbed into him as deep as he could go. He had effectively been rendered into nothing by Corentin, and Taylor drank of the moment like a glutton.
When he thought Corentin would surely make him eventually bleed, Corentin emptied himself fully into Taylor’s sore entrance. He pulled out with a harsh tug, and Taylor gasped with the shock to his system. With his grip firm, Corentin yanked Taylor into standing against him. Taylor gasped, his thighs shuddering. Corentin kept his grip on Taylor’s hair and released his arm. He reached around and firmly took Taylor’s cock in hand and began furiously jacking him off.
Taylor cried out and reached back, clawing into Corentin’s thighs for support. He tried to breathe, but no breath would satisfy his lungs. Corentin’s touch set every part of him twitching with hot need. Sweat rolled down his back in a long sticky trail. His jaw hung open, and all he could do was whimper under Corentin’s angry consuming pleasure.
Taylor came hard in Corentin’s hand, his seed splattering onto the sheets. He trembled violently and pressed his back into Corentin’s front, trying to support himself as he creamed.
Corentin’s hand in his hair held him tall, and they stood in silence. Taylor swallowed against the dryness in his throat. Without a word, Corentin eased away and let Taylor drop onto the bed.
Taylor listened to the downpour outside, the rain and the room all figments of Corentin’s imagination. Despite the filth of the room and the filth of their act, Taylor found a sense of peace in all of it. His legs trembled as he tried to pull up his underwear and jeans.
Corentin, on the other hand, wiped off with his shower towel and then dropped it on the floor.
Taylor smiled, drunk on the ferocity and release.
Corentin didn’t return Taylor’s mirth as he silently slipped into his jeans. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly.
“Oh no.” Taylor laughed. “You need to do that a lot more. I’ll be lucky if I can sit down in a few days.”
Corentin pulled on his shirt. “It was wrong.” He reached for his jacket next. “You’re a princess and it was wrong.”
Taylor’s good humor faded. “What are you talking about?” He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate. “I liked it. I’ve never seen you let go before.”
“I can’t let go.” Corentin rummaged through his messenger bag. It was like he’d had his fill and would be on the road once again to parts unknown.
Taylor shook his head. His gut clenched at Corentin’s dismissal. “What are you doing? We both wanted it. You’re my true love.”
“Taylor.” Corentin slammed his hands onto the rickety side table. “Stop.”
As if it were the end of the conversation, Corentin continued riffling through his bag. “I don’t understand….” Taylor pulled his coat tighter around himself, covering his shame.
&nb
sp; “What don’t you understand?” Corentin asked with a humorless grin. “I’m a huntsman, Taylor. It’s just a romantic way of saying many things. Assassin for one, but let’s not dress it up and call it what it is.” Corentin pulled a hair tie from his bag and worked his hair into a tail. “I’m a serial killer. I hurt people in a lot of different ways.” They locked gazes, and Corentin’s was once again angry and hurt. “I can’t tell you about any of it without scaring you.” Corentin ran his hands over his face, to avoid touching his hair. “My first sexual fantasy of you was fucking your corpse.” It was his turn for the anguish to hit. “How romantic is that?”
“Can we not talk about this?” Taylor begged him, embarrassed by the reedy tremble in his voice. “Just kiss me. We can get through this.” He successfully stood and crossed the floor to Corentin. Taylor leaned into him. “Kiss me. Just kiss me.” He tilted back his head and offered his mouth. He had to make things okay between them. But when Taylor looked into his eyes, he found only regret. Taylor’s lip trembled, and Corentin fought to keep his expression even.
They both failed.
“Just… kiss me… okay?” Taylor’s voice wouldn’t stop trembling.
Corentin dipped forward to Taylor’s level. Their lips barely brushed, and they breathed each other’s breath.
Taylor ran his teeth over his bottom lip in anticipation. “Just kiss me… okay? Please?” Taylor whispered as he timidly reached up to cup Corentin’s cheeks. When Corentin permitted the touch, Taylor nodded with a slight smile. “Kiss me.”
Corentin’s breath stuttered in his throat. He slipped his fingers through Taylor’s hair at the nape and pulled him into the kiss. What started as shy, chaste, and apologetic became desperate, lustful, and needing.
Taylor groaned as Corentin forced his lips apart to taste him. For a moment, Taylor lost himself. He clawed his fingers into Corentin’s hair and held fast, refusing to let Corentin go and welcoming his hunger. But with a steady push, Corentin broke the kiss and held Taylor at arm’s length.
“I love you so much, I’ll do anything to keep it,” Corentin said, keeping his distance. “I look at you and have hope that—” He gripped Taylor’s cheeks and his thumbs grazed over the trails of tears. Taylor swallowed. “I look at you…,” Corentin said. “I look at you and have hope that I’ll be okay.”