Wrath

Chapter Six

(6)

      Fear consumes my being as I watch Pride lift himself from the floor. Wiping away the blood that streamed from his once broken nose, his wounds heal almost instantaneously. The smug smile returns to his lips as he watches me observe the wounds disappear, leaving nothing but what blood was shed behind. I begin to back away as my conscious screamed at me what I knew couldn't be true, Pride wasn't human.

"How are you going to explain this to her? How are you going to explain anything once that pesky little glamour wears off?" He teases angrily, gold bleeding into his green eyes. They begin to glow beneath the light of the fire just as Wrath's had a few nights before. The color melts from his face leaving him pale, strange markings appear that stretch up his neck like a tattoo.

"Get the fuck out, Pride." Wrath says slowly, still covered in the blood of his brother. I feel Wrath's burning gaze but keep my eyes locked onto the man in front of me. Pride gives us both a once over before a smile stretches across his lips. Holding his hands up in defeat, he motions for his colleagues to leave.

"As you wish." He simply states, beginning to leave. Just as he's nearly out of the room he turns on his heel. "A word of advice-" His smirk never falters. "-Remember to hide your spare key well next time. Never know who'll just come strolling in. The next person may have more sinister intentions."

      Wrath says nothing as we hear the door close. His gaze cast to the blood saturated carpet with furrowed brows as if the stain was his main concern. As if Pride had not just displayed an inhumane ability to heal and left us with a clear threat. I begin to feel sick as my mind rolls over the possibilities. Uncertain of who or what these men are, my gaze shifts around the dimly lit room. A ruined carpet, glasses of booze littered around the room, a discarded suit jacket stained with blood. And, in the middle of it all, Wrath Crow.

      He looks down at me, about to speak, when I begin backing away. "No. Just stay the fuck away from me." I turn and begin to retreat to the staircase when I feel a large hand grasp my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. The warmth from his body encases mine as he leans in, anger radiating off his being.

"This was Pride's revenge. He knew revealing his truth would mean revealing mine." He grunts.

       "And, what exactly is your truth?" I question, not entirely sure if I was in the right state of mind to receive his complete honesty. He turns me around, the harshness in his touch making me flinch. We stare at one another for a moment, conflicting emotions grace his hard expression. But as silence blankets us it becomes clear that he won't be giving me the answers I need. Anger wills my hands as I push against his chest. He catches them, holding them in his own, white irises stare down at me masked with secrecy as sparks ignite my skin.

      I push back the lone tear that threatens to stream down my cheek. What have I gotten myself into? I'd sold myself to a violent man. A man with unexplainable characteristics. A man with enemies. I'd escaped my mother only to find myself trapped with a much greater evil.

     Working my hands free, I gaze up at the regal man before me in wonder. How much of the truth was hidden from me? How little do I know of the man I'm meant to marry?

     "Stop." He commands. I stand my ground, crossing my arms over my chest.

     "Stop what?" I ask.

     "Stop fearing me." His eyebrows raise as he takes a step forward. "No harm will come to you, not by my hand or anyone else's. You must realize you were made for this, for me. You couldn't comprehend how important you are." He states, taking in a deep breath.

"Why? Why am I important in all of this?" I question, my frustration leaks into my voice. Stepping away, he runs his fingers through his dark waves, tugging at the strands in frustration. After a few moments, determination ignites his eyes as he approaches me quickly. His proximity causes heat to flush my pale skin as his face lingers above mine, mere centimeters separated our parted lips.

"What do you feel when I touch you, Ember?" He asks, voice raspy as his hand connects to my waist. Electricity flows between us as both hands clutch onto my small waist. I try to advert my gaze before his fingers find my chin, forcing me to maintain eye contact.

"Tell me." Desire pours into his hooded gaze, his hold on me tightened the longer I remained unresponsive. Staring up at him, my eyes catch the two drops of blood splattered onto his cheek. The blood of his brother.

"Nothing, Wrath. I feel absolutely nothing." I sneer. Hurt flashes across his white irises as he releases my waist, allowing me to return to my room. As I make my way up the stairs, tears begin to fall onto my flushed cheeks. The unmistakable sound of glass shattering downstairs is heard before I'm able to close my bedroom door.

•••

        For days I'd stayed within the confines of my room. Spending most of my time researching the Crow family. Their business, origins, family tree. Only to find little record of their existence. An article or two on their sudden success in the world of business, photographic evidence of the brothers attending recent events. However, that's where the trail stops. No further mention of the men who had seemingly appeared out of thin air.

       The rich have ways of erasing their pasts, but, not to this degree. There wasn't so much as a record of birth, no mention of their parents. No familial ties. According to the internet, these men did not exist three months ago.

       Taking out my phone, I quickly type Jada a message. 'Have you happened to have heard of Wrath or Pride Crow?'

Jada's family was by far the most social, and kept tabs on all families worthy of their competition. The Crow brothers would definitely have made it onto their radar in the aspect of potential business partners, or opponents for that matter. Soon, a notification rings throughout the large room.

'I've heard of them, yes. They keep to themselves mostly. Come from a long line of money, like back in the 1800's kind of long. Why do you ask?'

My eyes roll over the message a few times. If their lineage could be traced back that far, why was there no other documented family members? I begin searching for his relatives, curious as to how the Crow family had made their original wealth. Scrolling through a few articles, my eyes catch a photo. There, standing in front of the very house I live in, stood Wrath. The caption read: William Crow, 1834.

My heart drops as I zoom in on the photo, Wrath's blank expression looking back at me. The only defining difference between the men was his lack of tattoos. Otherwise, they mirrored one another perfectly. Shaking my head of impossible thoughts I close my computer, running my fingers through my short black hair.

      Unable to process the new information, I try to piece together an explanation for the impossibilities I've witnessed within recent days. Perhaps I'd gone mad. Perhaps I'd been drugged, or lay dormant in a coma, my overactive imagination to blame.

      That, or I'd stumbled my way into a supernatural anomaly. I'd agreed to spend my mortal life with a being that defied the very laws of nature. A man with a vengeful younger brother who I'd crossed the moment I signed my life away to Wrath. Forever intertwined with a man whose extent of power I did not yet know. The Crow brothers possessed immortality. And, I was caught up in their sibling rivalry, quite possibly forever.