When I came to, my eyes barely wanted to open, and through the slits of my lashes, I saw a familiar ceiling—undeniably Bolton’s, the dark poster of some British band was taped to the ceiling, making me feel sure.
There was lost time; this position wasn’t the last one I remembered at all. I was getting dressed and about to leave when the world got fuzzy enough to give me an instant headache.
The same headache pounded in the space between my skull and brain, pulsing. I sat up slowly with my fingertips digging into my temples, hoping that would provide some relief.
“You passed out. You’ve been sleeping a few hours.”
Bolton was wearing nothing but a towel hanging low on hips, showing off every single muscle glued to every movement. His fingers pushed through his wet hair, making sure it didn’t stick to his forehead.
He might be a demigod, but he looked nothing but godly to me.
I sat up, even more trying to muster up any kind of words I could. Nothing was coming to mind that was worth saying out loud. I was distracted by how familiar he looked, not from seeing him in class every day, but my post headache was dragging memories out of the dark.
A deep, almost scary, baritone rumbled through my mind, causing the now to fade into the background.
“You can’t ignore tradition. You can’t out run tradition. You will marry him.”
I couldn’t see anything; it was still covered in a thick layer of fog still. I just heard the voices of my past, and if I clamped my eyes shut, I could hear them ever louder.
“I won’t marry him, and you can’t force me, Daddy. I don’t love him.”
“And who do you love, my little tyrant? The dark prince, son of Hades? The boy who brings nothing but destruction and death wherever he goes?”
“Destruction and death, or your everlasting control…?At least I can choose for myself.”
“You will never be with him, my princess. You will marry him or sit on this throne alone. Do you understand me?”
The memory faded out. I didn’t need to see the rest to know what happened next. I ran away, probably one of the first times, certainly not the last. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here, stuck between what I know and don’t.
I snapped back to the present, hearing the sound of his voice: “I have to go to the meeting. Can’t start skipping now. You okay to be alone? Am I gonna have to hunt you down again?”
I shook my head side to side, without speaking still. I could tell by the look on his face that my silence was only making him worried.
“What is it?” He came closer, handing me Advil and a water bottle from his polluted desk.
Taking it out of his hand and swallowing three pills with a big gulp of water, I debated telling him. I wanted to tell him, but I thought I should keep it to myself until I had more to go on.
If I remembered our past, would we have a future? Would I stop hating him as little as I did now? Would I hate him enough to remember loving Nyx, like my own voice just said?
“Nothing. Headache.” I hated lying to him. Something in the pit of my stomach created an ocean of nausea at the thought of lying to Bolton.
I was betraying my past self, and it had a vile kind of aftermath.
He kept staring at me while he got dressed, dissecting me and expecting me to speak. He zipped his pants, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him when the present faded into the background once more.
“What if I never stop hating you?”
“Then hate me. Hate me until it blurs into something else.”
His warm hands were comfortably on my hips, holding me against him, and I could almost smell the forest mixing with his musk. His scent alone was enough to get me drunk.
“What if the line between love and hate never blurs?”
His lips swept against my exposed neck, dragging against my skin with every word. “That line will always be blurred with us, because you already love to hate me.”
The small piece of a much larger memory faded as quickly as it came. Bolton was pulling on his shirt, with the arms cut off and the word “THRILLS” in capital letters across his chest, when he came back into focus.
“You look like you saw a ghost.”
I felt like I did. It was the first time I was looking at Bolton and truly seeing him.
Swallowing back the turbulence of these memories coming back, I swung my legs off the edge of the bed and sat up. “I’m part of the circle. I’m coming with you.”
He stood in front of me with his hands lazily on his hips. “You aren’t going anywhere. You passed out, and the memories are all over your face. You’re fucking four shades paler than normal.”
Standing up on my shaking legs, I grabbed the hoodie hanging off the bed post and wrapped it around me. That same forest and musk scent mixed together, making me want to drool.
“I’m going, Bolton. I’m the one this has to happen to.” I was holding myself up as best as I could, while I tried to look more like myself. Crossing my arms and throwing him an eye roll helped.
“The element of surprise was kind of my plan here.”
“Well, tough shit. I’ve had enough secrets.”
I pushed my bare feet into my Doc Martens, still wearing my uniform, just even more disheveled. I wasn’t letting anyone tell me I wasn’t going to this meeting for the circle I was queen of. I pushed past Bolton and stood in the hallway, waiting for him to catch up.
“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”
He draped his arm around my shoulders, and he whistled with his gaze down the hallway. I didn’t know who’s attention he wanted or who would even think a whistle was meant for them.
“Learn to love to hate me…” I soaked in being pushed up against him.
Walking further down the hallway with no real light, I tensed up, unsure what to expect. He kicked the door with his boot, and all you could hear was rustling behind the door. The inaudible music muffled by the door left a silence in the air when it was turned off abruptly. The door flung open and illuminated Luna, fixing her clothes and hair to be perfect again, while Nyx was pulling his shirt back on.
Bolton was laughing next to me in an unfamiliar way. He was actually amused by corruption.
Nyx was defiling Luna, and he actually thought it was comical.
“What do you want?”
Bolton leaned into the door frame, “Meeting? You kids wanna stay off each other long enough to come to that?”
Luna’s cheeks were sunburnt red and matched her red locks. She was embarrassed, and I couldn’t figure out why. They liked each other, and when there’s enough like in one room, the tension is only bearable with your clothes off.
I knew from personal experience.
Nyx barreled through Bolton and I in the doorway, like a bowling ball, making a complete strike. I followed Luna’s gaze to the guy walking away from her, after God, or apparently gods, knew what happened. Linking my arms into hers, I forced her close to me, letting Bolton lead.
“I can’t believe he’s letting you go,” I whispered in a pointlessly hushed tone. Bolton probably had some form of his ears ringing, except more dramatically, like his soul lights on fire when someone talks about him.
“What are these meetings about anyways?”
“The same thing every week. Who’s the one, planning the ritual, all the prep that goes into it… Normally it’s Bolton against the majority vote on everything.”