BLEEDING HEART | ONC 2024

09 - HER

Hanging around at taverns isn't a habit of mine.

And yet, since meeting and losing Az I've ended up at Hazel's Vale every night. Slumped in front of a mug of mead, or drowning my feelings in a cocktail.

This is unusual. At most, I'll swing by the tavern once or twice a week for a drink and a sweep of the area. But these past few nights, I've been drawn here. I can't stop myself as I take my seat at the bar-counter, and sigh when Henderson sets an alcoholic beverage in front of me.

I try to convince myself that I'm not coming here because of Az. That I don't stay in the area in case he surfaces again, apologizing for abandoning me.

But no matter what I do, I think of him. Daytime, nighttime; during meals, afternoon walks near the marketplace. I imagine his mouth as I bite into those stupid macarons. My heart flutters whenever I see a tall, large man from afar.

Az, whatever he is, has left Hazelvale. I don't smell him; that richly pungent stench of evil, with its sickeningly sweet edges that mask the danger beneath it.

After eradicating that cheating woman in the alley, I expected my feelings to dissipate. I thought it was a phase, a fluke that I'd feel anything for Az. But the harder I attempt to move on and forget, the more he pops up in my head, haunting me.

It's been three days, and still, I turn to the door whenever it opens, desperate for it to be him.

"He's not coming back," Henderson says, every time I spin back around, dejected.

"Who?" I ask, feigning innocence.

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Dru," says Henderson, sliding a small tumbler of amber liquid towards me.

"I'm not bullshitting," I say, sucking down the liquid, letting it burn my throat. I hope it'll burn my heart, too, because I can't stand it anymore.

It hurts. Constantly. It longs for love, but yearns for revenge. It begs me to hunt Az down and have my way with him, then behead him.

Ditching me like that, without a word...it's unheard of. One-night-stands are always agreed upon, first.

At the same time, my heart craves him. It's desperate for him to appear so I can touch him. So I can absorb all his toxicity and let it drape me in some sinister need for more.

The sexual tension between us was so raw, I can't stop thinking about it. I want to taste him, feel him inside me.

I shudder, and Henderson walks away, muttering to himself as he shakes his head.

I'm not all right. In all my eons of existence, I've never felt like this. Never had such a carnal need to be fucked by someone. And certainly not someone of his kind; a demon.

It's more than lust, too. I long for his voice, his words. A delicate brush of his giant hands over my cheeks, a need to nestle into his big arms and fall asleep with him.

It's so odd. I've seen this play out before: the slow falling for someone else. The heartbeats quickening at their touch, the stupid glowiness in their features. I'm well-versed with witnessing these emotions and events unfolding before me...but they've never happened to me.

I've never experienced lust to this level, but I know how to handle it. I must scratch that itch to make it go away.

But this added layer of sentiments towards Az is more than an itch. It's a wound that won't heal, and I'm not sure whether to keep poking at it or ignore it.

It's such a powerful pull, it transcends physical needs. And it's so forbidden, but I can't help it.

"You need to get laid," says Henderson, his voice shocking me out of my turbulent images of a naked Az.