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The Bride
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Bride helped Vale carry the remains of Catherine’s body up the stairs. Fannie was nowhere in sight. The dejected deviant was most likely skulking about through the city, searching for any remaining mortals. Vale’s decision to let Bride lead the torture was enough to spark Fannie’s anger. Despite the notion of torture, Bride was more pleased by the immortal’s dramatics than anything.
As they stepped out onto the backyard patio, Vale tossed the limp body onto the pyre. The heap was made from old tomes and the stack of chopped firewood beside the garden shed.
Vale picked up a can of gasoline, a token he’d found earlier in the garage, and sloshed it over Catherine’s body. The pleasure of torturing another soul had brought Bride a sense of foreboding. She pushed it away and focused on the scarlet splattered on her own arms, wondering what it would taste like. Victory? The strike of a match drew her away from her thoughts, and she watched as Vale tossed it toward the bloodied corpse.
Fire ignited under the dark sky, crackling and burning while each flame licked away Catherine’s flesh, peeling it away from the bone. Bride couldn’t conceal the sparks at her fingertips as giddiness stirred within her at the sight. If Vale were able to use his stronger abilities, she could only imagine how powerful the fire would have been. Outside the Glass Vault he was limited, but inside he could do anything.
He longed for power. Sometimes, Bride believed she craved it even more.
Together, they mourned how great Catherine could have been. Even with her betrayal, she was still one of them. The flames continued to eat away at the immortal until she was nothing but ash. Vale’s eyes hadn’t once left the blazing orange, but as the last flicker snuffed out, he turned toward Bride.
“You were miraculous in there,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers, his fingers trailing the length of her spine.
“I felt miraculous, Vale.” She was the only one allowed to call him by his true name, even Fannie had to refer to him as Master.
“Because you are. You are remarkable. You can get cleaned up if you wish. There is a shower on the second floor.” He lifted his forehead from hers, his expression now unreadable.
What Bride wished in that moment was to be with Vale right here in the open, surrounded by Catherine’s ash, but her skin ached to be washed, for her to remove the dirt first.
With a nod, she went back inside the house and up the stairs. A throbbing came at her chest, similar to the pounding in her head, but she ignored it. Bride needed a distraction, and she found it as soon as she stepped into the bathroom. On the countertop, a towel and rag were already set aside for her. Bride stared at her reflection in the rectangular mirror hanging above the sink, and she didn’t recognize her face beneath the blood and grime.
Long, brown hair, wild and untamed, hung below her shoulder blades. A thin streak of white hair rested on each side of her temples, weaving themselves into the tangles. Deep brown eyes rimmed with black circles from lack of sleep peered back at her from the glass. They focused on a part of her throat hidden in shadow. Just a few inches above her collarbone sat her pale scar.
It seemed to smile at her, as though it knew something she didn’t.
For a moment, Bride didn’t know who she was or what she was. The ache in her chest pulsed faster, sharper. She gripped the fabric above her heart and took a deep breath, knowing who she was, what she was. She was the Bride. Vale’s Bride. She was his chosen leader, his Queen of the Glass Vault and all living creatures inside of it.
Shedding her blood-smeared gown, she took a step into the shower.
Cool beads of water pelted against her flesh as it washed away the grime, red and brown mixing with the clear water. Bride gathered her electricity and ignited it to heat her skin. As her current crackled, the liquid now felt warm when it hit her skin. The dull pounding in the back of her head shot forward, sending a path of shocks through her body, and she couldn’t fight it anymore.
Bride’s knees buckled and she caught herself on the floor of the tub just before slamming her head against the wall. A flash of pain still twisted inside her skull, crashing into memories she had never once seen.
A shadow... It morphed into a young woman with obsidian hair and a bright blue eye. This was no stranger—she was the same immortal wearing an eye patch that Bride had seen at the museum. She squeezed her head between her hands. The pain ... it wouldn’t go away, and the more it pounded, the clearer the vision became.
Nev came over to watch movies while Perrie’s dad was at work. Her dad hadn’t looked himself this morning, and she knew why. It was the anniversary of when her mom had left them. Years might’ve passed, but to her dad, it was like yesterday. She preferred not to think about it.
They were waiting for Maisie to show them her surprise. Her cousin had told them a week ago that she’d come up with an idea but wouldn’t let either one of them know what it was.
Maisie had said she planned on starting it in a month when summer break began after their sophomore year, but she apparently couldn’t wait a second longer.
Nev sat in the chair, already enchanted by an old werewolf movie Perrie had turned on for him. He hadn’t seen many of the old classic horror films, so Maisie had made it a purpose for him to start a few weeks ago.
“What do you think she’s going to surprise us with?” Perrie asked, fiddling around with a Rubik’s Cube that she could never fucking solve.
Nev cocked his head and smiled as he seemed to mull it over. “I’m thinking it has something to do with what she’s been into recently, which has been pirates.”
That was true. Maisie had been carrying around a lot of different books lately. Perrie believed two of them may have had a pirate ship on them. “So, your guess is a pirate accent?” She laughed.
Rolling his eyes, Nev looked back at the TV. “If she got this worked up over a pirate accent, I’m going to be thoroughly unimpressed.”
A knock came at the front door, and Nev bit his lip anxiously toward the sound. Perrie frowned, unsure what he was nervous about. It was only Maisie, not a werewolf creeping out from the TV screen.
Perrie checked the peephole and released a birdy whistle when she confirmed it was her cousin. Maisie stayed turned to the side as she whistled in return.
As Perrie swung open the door, Maisie jumped through the space and waved her hands in the air. “Surprise!”
Nev leapt around the chair and ran to Maisie, cradling her face in his hands. “What the hell happened to your eye?”
Maisie’s smile grew wider, and she patted his hand away. “You like it?”
Okay, so Nev was right. “Pirates, remember?” Perrie said, glancing toward him as he studied Maisie.
“Damn it, Mais.” A scowl crossed his face for a brief moment before he smirked, most likely impressed with himself for knowing her surprise had something to do with pirates.
Perrie took a closer look at the blue and red eye patch, appearing to be well crafted. The patch part itself was the body of a parrot. A head poked out on one end, tail feathers on the other, and tiny feet at the bottom.
“I’m surprised you didn’t add a pirate hat with a skull on top of it.” Perrie laughed.
Maisie tapped the side of her head with her pinky finger. “I’ll add that thought for another day to my growing list.”
“What list?” Nev piped in, his interest piqued.
Clapping her hands together, Maisie brought them in front of her mouth. “I’m starting my own business. Time to do away with boring black eye patches. Those with one eye deserve to express that you don’t have to hide the eye, you can embrace it.”
“Technically, the eye would still be hidden behind a patch,” Perrie pointed out.
Maisie waved her index finger around like a pirate’s sword. “That’s true, but the barrier protecting the eye can be vibrant. To show my support, I will wear one from now on.”
It was a Maisie sort-of-idea, but Perrie liked it. “Go ahead.”
Nev shook his head and sank back into the chair, seeming to not quite get what the hell was going on.
With a laugh, Maisie rumpled Nev’s hair to bug him, then plopped down on the couch.
The image disappeared. It all vanished. There was something there—Bride knew it. She tried to bring the pieces back, but she couldn’t. It was gone and she was here in the shower, the water once again cold. Bride pressed her hands to the sides of her head and squeezed, urging the memory to resurface, but it didn’t. Instead, she was left with a dull throbbing in each temple. Grounding her teeth, she slapped the bottom of the tub as hard as she could, the small puddle of water splashing against the walls.
Beads from the shower head continued to pour down on her, and she slowly felt herself once more, no longer caring about what had been there. Bride turned off the water and wrapped herself in a towel while staring at the fog-covered mirror. She leaned forward, lifting a finger to the glass and drew a picture of a flower.
“Strange,” Bride said to herself, wondering what would make her do something so pathetic.
Shaking her head, she finished drying off and bent down to pick up the dress from the tile floor. The ensemble was back to its impeccable condition—pure ivory, not a speck of dirt or blood. Stepping into the silky material, Bride buttoned it back up.
As she opened the door, Vale leaned against the wall, file in hand. His hair was damp and curled slightly against his forehead—he must have showered as well.
“Took you long enough,” he said almost playfully, running the file across his perfectly-shaped fingernails.
Shame slithered forth within her as she thought about the weakness she had just experienced in the bathroom. She was too ashamed to confess the words aloud, even though Bride knew Vale would help her. He always answered any questions she would ask.
“I wanted to make sure I scrubbed my nails thoroughly and made them extra clean,” Bride lied, holding out her hands and splaying her fingers for inspection.
Vale ran the tip of his tongue across his lower lip, his smile turning into something like a dare.
His luscious, full lips drew her gaze. Everything was forgotten, the world forgotten, except for him. With a grin, she whirled away from him and slowly walked toward the bedroom, knowing he was following behind. She wanted him to follow her.
The room appeared clean, finely decorated with a large bed, a white-washed vanity, and an antique desk with a closed laptop resting on its surface.
Quiet filled the room, and it was all theirs for the night.
“You know the effect you have on me, don’t you?” Vale pulled her to him, turning her in his arms. He placed his forehead into the crook of her neck for a moment, breathing her in, before reuniting his eyes with hers.
She did. These were the times when Vale was almost vulnerable. These were the times she went mad with lust. Bride’s hands traveled up his chest, stopping at the place where his heart sat, but nothing beat against his rib cage.
Vale lifted his hand and gently trailed his fingers along the scar on her neck. “You never asked me how you got this,” he said softly.
“Because I don’t care.” However Bride became what she was, she truly didn’t care—she relished in what she was, loved doing the things she did. She felt powerful.
“I will always answer anything you ask. Anything.”
“How about you tell me tomorrow, then. There are more important matters at hand.” Bride licked her lips, inching closer to him. To her delight, his breath quickened.
That was all it took.
Vale’s mouth crashed to hers, his body pressing into every part of her. The kiss was so rough that Bride tasted metallic on her tongue. They plunged back into the desk and her thighs pushed into the edge of the surface. She kissed him with the same level of intensity, but her body ached for more.
Vale flipped her around, and Bride steadied her hands against the desk. His fingers skimmed down the sides of her rib cage and to her hips. Everything within her ignited at his caress, the rush it sent through her. Releasing a growl, his digits dug into her flesh, tugging her closer.
Bride’s heart sped with yearning as he pressed into her from behind. His touch captivated and rendered her nerves senseless.
Vale’s warm breath fluttered against her ear as he purred, “Should you hike up your dress, or shall I?”
He removed his hand from her waist and ran it along the inside of her thigh while the other hovered just below her breast. She let out a moan that she didn’t want to hold back when he cupped her breast and did wicked things with her nipple, even with the cloth barrier between them.
“You do it,” Bride pleaded.
Vale released a low groan. The zipper of his pants slid down, the only other sound besides their ragged breaths, then he yanked up the skirt of her dress. He trailed rough kisses down her neck and nibbled the skin just below her ear.
With one quick stroke, Vale buried himself inside her, and she inhaled sharply at his delicious movements. Again and again, he thrust—each time she moaned louder, needing even more of him. He seemed to know exactly what she wanted as he increased his pace.
When his fingers came to her center, circling in an enticing pattern, she shouted his name for more. And he answered with more.
Bride closed her eyes as her electricity lit up the entire room, roaring with bliss. She never wanted him to cease.
The smell of clean cotton sheets disturbed Bride from sleep.
Her eyes fought against exhaustion as she turned onto her side, pulling the covers back up to her shoulder. The muscles in her legs ached, but it was an exquisite feeling to have, knowing that Vale was still beside her. He had dozed off to a well-deserved rest after he had taken her multiple times, but to her disappointment, he was on the edge of the bed, out of reach.
Always when they slept, he drifted farther away and didn’t touch her, as if he was afraid of letting himself feel too much. Bride reached out to him, and he rolled onto his back at the last second, straight into her extended hand.
It happened so fast she couldn’t stop the little spark that escaped her finger.
Vale jerked against the light jolt, and Bride yanked her hand back, horror on her face. She waited for his eyes to flick open, worried she may have hurt him, but it didn’t happen. He was still sound asleep—not a hair on him had been moved out of place to cause a disturbance in his slumber.
“Vale?” He didn’t answer, so she touched his chest again and felt it against her palm. Thump ... thump ... thump.
She withdrew her hand and hurriedly placed her ear to his chest. It pumped, though weak and labored, begging to be heard. Its voice was tinier than most, but his heart was crying out. Possibly for her.
Vale’s heart was alive.
Frantically, Bride tried to shake him awake. Vale rolled toward her with hooded eyes.
She sighed in relief as he studied her.
“Perrie,” he murmured. A small boyish smile appeared when he said the word—the type of smile Vale never wore.
Bride didn’t recognize what he had said. Before she could speak, Vale reached for her waist and drew her closer. He rested his forehead on hers, one hand lightly cupping her cheek, then he softly brushed a kiss against her lips. Something slammed inside her, trying to break free—it pressed against the back of her skull.
Ever since Bride had first awoken in the Glass Vault, Vale had never kissed her in this manner. Their kisses were more passionate, never this subtle, this tender. His caresses tingled against her lips, sweet and gentle like the soft brush of a feather. His hand drifted to the small of her back, lightly stroking the area—then he pulled her even closer.
Vale trailed delicate kisses along her jaw, down her neck to her collarbone and right back to her mouth while gracefully entangling his fingers through her hair.
Vale kissed her gently one more time before Bride rolled away from him, a strange emotion pouring over her. He settled behind her, encircling her mid-section and resting his forehead between her shoulder blades. His heart barely thrummed against her back. But that kiss felt wrong—something was wrong with him.
This wasn’t her Vale.
Before she could sit up to shake him back awake, the pounding in her head returned with a ferocity unlike before. It was the same as in the shower, only this time she could feel the memories falling back into place, like tiny pieces to a puzzle. Names, faces—they all came flooding out from the depths of her mind. A tidal wave that consumed her.
Warm blood poured down Perrie’s throat, Neven chained to a wall, Vale dragging her by her hair as she thrashed. Then she was lying naked in a bed with a flushed August—there were crazed blackbirds flying before that—then the Huntsman was going after Maisie. She remembered it all, right up to the moment she entered Quinsey Wolfe’s Glass Vault.
Everything was on rewind, and the sting of hot tears filled her eyes.
She couldn’t stop the memories from coming—part of her tried, but she fought back. Perrie had forgotten about everyone—including herself. She’d lost everything inside the Glass Vault and then, because of her, she lost everything outside of it, too. Her dad, Uncle Jaron, and Aunt Krista—they were all dead.
The pounding in her head lightened to a dull throb, then it was gone, leaving behind a terrible panic. Fear rose inside her, clawing its way into her chest as she realized where she was—and who she was with. His arm was looped around her waist, an anchor that had her trapped in the middle of the ocean away from any sort of land or freedom.
I need to get the fuck out of here. Now! Her heartbeat kicked up.
Tears streamed down Perrie’s face, but she needed to keep quiet. After she got out of here, she could scream all she wanted. Slowly, she lifted Vale’s warm hand away from her stomach. She prayed to any god listening to let Vale not wake up. Just this once, she desperately hoped someone would hear her prayers. I have to get out of this house—I have to escape. She repeated it over and over again in her mind until Vale’s arm was safely removed.
With a steady hand, Perrie lowered Vale’s arm to the bed beside his hip. He rolled to his back with a low groan and she froze, waiting. His eyes remain sealed, undisturbed. Carefully, she shifted her feet to the floor and pushed up from the mattress, glancing back only once to check on him. Her chest tightened. He looked like August Hartley, but he wasn’t. The sleep-tousled blond curls and peaceful expression couldn’t conceal the monster underneath the boyishness anymore.
Perrie tip-toed across the carpet toward the door, grateful the floor wasn’t wood that could squeak. She left her boots behind and wouldn’t risk her safety for a pair of shoes. No matter what, barefoot or broken, she would be running for her life. And if what she knew about Vale was true, then she would most likely never stop.
As Perrie descended the stairs one slow step at a time, Fannie rounded the corner from the living room. Perrie folded her face into a blank expression when everything inside her was shivering to the bone, her heart screaming.
Fannie sneered as she passed and clicked her heels down the kitchen tile toward the basement. Perrie breathed through her nose, a little too rapidly and loud for her own comfort. When the immortal closed the basement door behind her, Perrie padded toward the front exit and turned the knob.
The door swung open and she closed it behind her with a soft click. Relief thrummed in her veins, but it didn’t last long—she wasn’t far away enough yet.
The early morning welcomed her with a warm breeze. Stumbling down the steps of the porch, Perrie inhaled as much fresh air as possible. Her body tingled, and adrenaline vibrated in her toes, urging her feet to move faster. Perrie might be free, but she wasn’t safe yet, so she ran to her goal number one—the sidewalk. Then she reached goal number two when she passed the second house. Then Perrie struck fucking gold when she hit the third, and she continued to root for her achievements as her legs pumped as hard as they could. The only thing she held a firm grip on was her scream.
Wind rattled in her ears—the sound of her feet slapping against concrete flushed out the damn insanity, and everything in the world she passed became a blur.
Even when she’d distanced herself, she kept running away from the house, away from Fannie, away from Vale, away from it all. She didn’t once look behind her, afraid if she did, Vale would be there to catch and drag her back by her hair to his world of hell.
