Sickly, Sweet - Book One

Ch. 22 - Heartless

'We are all pawns in this bloody war. Death drops with a beat harder than thunder, creating a melody so vicious it cries.'

***

A warm and tingling sensation drops from my scalp to my toes. The impact of strong, harrowed emotions makes my heart beat an odd rhythm that increased to a point that hurt. I feel like I'm floating in mid-air, ready to drop and crash at his feet. With the knife in my hand, my knuckles turn white at the intensity of my grip.

The need to kill him and fulfill my despicable duty forces itself to overtake my thoughts and feelings. My hands shake with a want to sink it deep into his chest, but my heart is begging me to drop it. I bite down and don't even mind the way my fangs have punctured my bottom lip, letting the blood drip down my chin.

Valentine gives me a look that sums up all of my emotions. He looks to be mirroring the expression on my face - confused, scared and concerned. The closer he gets, the harder I push myself into the wall. I need to get away from him. I need to be as far away as possible.

"Saphira," his voice, ever so soft caresses my ears and skin like silk.

"No." I shake my head back and forth. I feel something warm and wet drip down my cheeks. I wipe my face with my free hand and notice the rosy liquid that is now spread on my palm. Tears, those are tears mixed with blood. I'm crying. My body can't take all there urges at once.

'Finish him,' a cruel and maleficent voice speaks from the dagger.

The war within me has me wanting to stick the knife in my own heart. The fight for control is making my head throb and my body ache. I can end it in just one strike.

"It's alright," Valentine says, again, in a low and soothing tone.

He glides closer and my vision blurs from the tears that escaped my eyes. His body is only inches from me, with the dagger pointed right at his heart. The warmth that circulated between us gave me the slightest reassurance that it will all be alright. My hand rests on his chest and I almost break. Although his heart no longer beats, you can feel his heart ache. We both know what is to happen next.

"Saphira, love. Look at me."

I refuse and keep my head low, my anger almost making me dig the knife into his flesh. After a few seconds he lifts my chin with his finger and forces me to look into his burning eyes. He speaks to me with silent whispers and strokes my face with his warm and strong hands.

"I don't want to hurt you," I say. I can't believe what I'm saying. The irony of it all is thick enough to doubt. We met when I was hired to kill him, when I had no heart for vampires or much of the underworld.

"You can't hurt me," he replies with tenderness.

The knife sinks into his bare chest from the pressure and he doesn't do anything, not even flinch. I, on the other hand, fear this moment will be the last we have together.

"Valentine, I can't stop it, you need to get yourself away from me, please," I beg.

He lifts his hand and places it on my cheek caressing my lip with his thumb. "This is the only way she will stop, she needs to know that I'm dead. Her control over you will cease once this is done."

My eyes widen and the agony worsens. "You've known, all this time, that I was destined to end you?"

He gives me a broken and breathy, "Yes." His eyes burn me with a fever that radiates through my body inside and out. "I've always known." His jaw tightens like a rock. The blade sinks deeper into his chest and he groans in pain. I don't know how to explain, but I can feel the pain in my own chest, not from the dagger but from his words. His hand snakes up my arm and accompanies the hand holding the glistening weapon.