He thought he went too far when Nyx sat himself on the back of the roof of the neighboring house. He sat the trunk down and leaned against it, groaning as he ran a hand over the stab wound Theia gave him. She put up a fight, he gave her that, but the pathetic female laid on the floor and let him take back what was his father's. He thought she would've at least thrown the dagger back, but she just watched him.
He pressed a hand to the wound, hissing at the burning sensation. She got him down to the hilt, though had poor aim. She missed any vital organs, which Nyx was lucky for. He kept his palm against the wound as he turned when he heard a horrifying scream. He winced.
It wasn't the scream of someone who lost a fight, it was a scream of grief. He heard her voice tear, growing more scratchy as she went. Nyx stared down at the walkway to her home, cringing as her voice broke more and more. It tugged at the boy within him that loved her once. Somehow, the sympathy for her nearly overthrown the hatred he held for her. Before Nyx could do something stupid, three of the patrolling soldiers landed at her doorstep. One of them walked in while the other two turned and watched the road and skies.
The screaming ceased, and the soldier remained inside for a few minutes. Eventually, Nyx saw as he walked out holding the bloodied dagger. He heard the male speak with the others about the lack of damage to her body, but that a bloodied dagger was beside her. Nyx looked down at his own bloodied hand as he listened to them decide to stay outside of her home to ensure she didn't end her life.
Nyx clenched his jaw and stood, unable to hear them speculate anymore. With tremendous strain, he lifted the trunk again. It weighed more than he had expected, and rising into the sky was more of a task then he had bargained for. Not only was the trunk heavy, but he had to circle around the entire village to avoid the eyes of the patrolling soldiers.
Eventually, he made it to the house and landed on the porch with a loud thud. Nyx kicked the door open and marched in, dropping the trunk behind the couch. He slowly straightened, clutching the wound that had torn open again.
"What is that? What happened?"
Nyx winced. He had thought Zenova had gone to sleep. He lifted his gaze to see the young female on the stairs, clutching the banister with both hands as she stared at him with worry.
"It's nothing. Go to bed," he growled. Zen took another step down, making his head snap back up.
"Nyx, you're hurt. What happened?"
He wanted to scream. His teeth gnashed together as he fought the urge to shout at her. He lost when a cramp settled around the healing wound.
"Damn it, Zen! Go to bed!"
His younger cousin flinched, staring at him with enough worry that Nyx felt immediate regret. He didn't get to apologize before she hurried up the stairs and slammed her door. Nyx cursed under his breath as he kicked the main door shut and shoved the trunk to the bottom of the stairs. With one last push of effort, he lifted it and brought it into his own bedroom. He dropped it at the foot of his bed before leaning against the post as he caught his breath. Each time he strained, the wound tore again.
Nyx groaned and hurried into the bathing chamber, tearing off his shirt. He looked into the smudged mirror. Blood was smeared across his abdomen, though the cut was closing. Nyx winced and soaked a cloth before using it to clean the blood from his skin. The wound was still red and raw, but no more blood poured from it. Nyx grimaced at the now-pink cloth and tossed it to the basket.
He turned the faucet of the tub on and leaned against it. He couldn't help the small laugh that left him. Sure, hearing those screams had him second guessing his choices, but seeing the way she laid on the floor, her hand covered in his blood; Nyx was filled with a warmth that he could only describe as glee. He had started his revenge on the female that broke him down, and he couldn't wait to finish it.
He had grown over the years, physically and mentally. Nyx had new tactics to use against her, and a newly found taste for the blood of those who wronged him. Theia was at the top of his list. There were few people that affected him as much as Theia had during his life, and she deserved the worst of his wrath.
Nyx lowered himself into the tub and laid his head back. The water burned, but he enjoyed it. Nyx scrubbed himself clean, careful of the injured skin. His body ached when he climbed from the tub and drained the bloody water. Nyx tied a towel around his waist and retreated back to his bedroom.
He dropped the towel and grabbed a pair of undershorts from the wardrobe. When they were on, he crawled into bed. Nyx stared at the ceiling, thinking of the trunk at the base of his bed. He planned to bring it to Velaris the next day. Nyx stretched out, grinning to himself.
He had spent two centuries pining over the way he'd get his revenge, and the taste of it was euphoric. She had left him as nothing but a sobbing boy in his mother's arms. He remembered Feyre crying, he remembered his father being furious. He hardly got to soothe them before he was sent to the Hewn City. That's where he got his name of the drunken and seductive heir. The month he spent there was full of blurry faces and orgasms that he couldn't remember. Nyx didn't care, though. His plans were coming together. Quicker than he anticipated, but easy enough.
Somehow, the excitement of his day funneled into one feeling. His groaned, running his hand over his hips to feel his length hardened against his shorts. He hadn't needed to touch himself in years. There was always someone that would do it for him. It had to be the memories of being here, or the way he succeeded tonight.
Nyx had nothing particular in mind as he slid his hand beneath his shorts and gripped himself. His thumb ran over the tip and a rushed breath escaped his lips. Nyx's grip tightened as he stroked himself, feeling the rush of heat through his body. He bit down on his bottom lip, suppressing his moans. His head tipped back as he quickened his strokes, using the glistening liquid to work himself.
He had been so frustrated, Nyx promised himself he'd have to fuck someone the next day. Cauldron, he'd visit the pleasure houses while in Velaris if he needed to. As the heat pumped through his veins, Nyx groaned, looking down to watch himself.
His cock twitched in his hand. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he quickly fell into the pleasure. As Nyx's eyes screwed shut and his breathing became rapid, he felt his orgasm building. What had him panting, staring at the ceiling as his hand was covered in his own thick release, was the fact that Theia's face flashed in his mind.
It wasn't the face he remembered, not the part of her from years ago when she let Nyx take her in any way. It was the Theia that was on the ground, coated in his blood. It was the face she made as she slid the dagger into his body. Pure adrenaline had driven her to try to kill him, and Nyx let himself feed into that fantasy.
—————-
Zenova was still in her room when Nyx bathed and got dressed. With a tight jaw, he rasped his knuckles against her door.
"I'll be out for a while. I have something to do in Velaris," he called out. Nyx got no response, so he turned and marched back into his bedroom. He grabbed ahold of the trunk, wincing at the tug of the sensitive skin on his abdomen.
He winnowed to the river house, grunting as he shoved the door open and dropped the trunk. He kicked the door shut, glancing around the home.
"Hello?" He called out. Small steps were heard down the corridor and his mother came into view. Her confused face turned to a wide smile as she rushed toward her son.
"Nyx! Cauldron, it's been months!" She squealed, hugging him around the middle. Nyx was grateful he hadn't worn his nicer clothing because when Feyre leaned back, the paint that had been smudged on her was now on his own clothing.
When he'd come to get Zenova, he'd met Cassian at the House of Wind. The three of them had left from there, and before that, Nyx had been staying in the Spring Court with his aunt Elain and uncle Lucien.
"What's that?" His mother asked as she stepped away and eyed the trunk.
"I recovered something for father," Nyx responded, leaning down and grabbing the trunk again. He grunted as he pulled it up.
"He's in his study," Feyre offered, waving him off. Nyx gave his mother a nod and began the trek to Rhysand's office. He didn't bother knocking. He shoved the door open and dropped the trunk, glancing up at his father as he panted.
"What's this?" Rhysand asked, standing from his chair. Nyx motioned at the trunk before straightening.
"Everything Theia stole from you. It's not the full sum, but it's what she had left. I plan to gather the remainder eventually."
Rhysand stilled, his entire body going rigid as he stared at the trunk. His eyes were wide as he looked towards Nyx. There was a feeling that gathered in his belly as he watched his father. This was not the reaction of a male who received their stolen coin back, this was the reaction of a male who held a secret. Nyx's guards immediately rose. He knew Rhysand's tells by now.
"What?" Nyx snapped. Rhysand cleared his throat and stepped around the desk. He kneeled by the trunk as he opened it. His fingers slid over the coins and sack.
"How did you get this?"
"A fight, really. I warned her that I wanted it in one week, she didn't comply, so I waited for her to come home. When she did, I searched her house until I found it. She stabbed me in the process."
Rhysand looked up at his son, eyes scanning him for injury. Nyx lifted his shirt to show the pink skin that was now closed. Rhysand's throat bobbed as he looked back down to the trunk.
"Did you hurt her?"
Nyx's brows furrowed. He wanted to laugh- no, he wanted to scream. "What do you mean?"
Rhysand stood, dark eyes fixed on his son's face. "Did you hurt her?" His voice was thicker now, more authoritative than caring.
"I shoved her away when she fucking stabbed me. The soldiers on patrol went in and took her dagger when I left. Last I saw, they stayed out there all night. I threatened her, of course. You can't steal from the High Lord and get away with it. Right, father?"
Nyx's tone was careful, bating his father into confessing whatever plagued him. Rhysand was no fool. He knew what Nyx was doing and the concern slipped from his face. His jaw ticked as he looked from Nyx to the trunk.
"Correct. I'm fine with this, don't bother her anymore. She's learned her lesson, I'm sure."
Nyx scoffed. "She stabbed me. She assaulted the heir of the Night Court and stole from the High Lord. She deserves to be imprisoned, if not killed."
Rhysand's eyes shot to Nyx. There was fear deep within them, something anyone else wouldn't have noticed. Rhysand gave a small nod as his throat worked.
"Don't pursue her any further. That's an order."