t a y l o r
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Monsters don't get saved. They get put down by the monsters you should really be afraid of.
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Who is she?
I didn't teach her to fight like that. I didn't teach her disarm techniques. I didn't teach her how to project her voice in a way that would make all men fear her.
Yet she did it as though it was natural to her.
It didn't escape my notice how the topic of traitors made her uncomfortable. Especially regarding the Royals. I was surprised she wasn't already aware of most of the theories.
The death of King Tobias Kensley and his wife Isabella has sparked discussions for many years. The disappearance of their children, Ingrid Freya and Tristan Lukas, even more so.
She can't be a traitor.
Rebecca didn't trust her, and I trust Rebecca, but Lexi trusts her and Lexi was brought up on the streets.
She was brought up to know who can and can't be trusted.
"Taylor," I snap out of my thoughts, nodding my head at Scarlett. "Bex wants to see you, as soon as."
"Thanks, Scar." I say without thinking.
"Long live the King." She bows, grinning ear from ear. It had been something we tended to joke around for the past 2 years, to a point where I stopped calling it her completely.
It didn't help that she shared a name with that of our sworn enemies either.
I go to the roof, where I somehow knew Becca would be. She hadn't wanted me to go on a date with Astrid, so I expected her to scold me in the first place, but after the incident with Cole Caldwell and his bitches, I expected a lot worse.
It's safe to say her words were completely unexpected.
"The Scars are dead."
I notice her attire then.
She has her dark hair tied back into a high ponytail, and clothes that cling to her lean, athletic build. But unlike all other occurrences, her clothes are completely white.
I know a lot about Becca. From her favorite color to her most cherished wish.
Her favorite books when we were in the Orphanage were The Mortal Instruments. She loved the symbolism, it even sparked her interest in latin.
And she chose her clothes carefully because of it.
She told me once that different colors meant different things. Black for hunting or fighting. Gold for brides.
White for mourning.
"What?"
"People were saying shit at the Ring last night, I sent Jayce this morning and he said it looked like a massacre had taken place."
"Who?" I questioned. We were their biggest rivals. Who else would have the soldiers to take them out?
"I don't know." She replies honestly, "But they've been taking out other gangs, not as large scale but still gangs. I think we're next."
"We'll stop them. They won't take us, you know that." I tell her without hesitation.
Anybody can have the joy of killing us but they won't ever have the satisfaction of seeing our fear.
"I think I'm going crazy, Tay." She mutters, holding her head.
No Viper will ever stand alone
"Hey, if you're going crazy then we're both going crazy together, right?" I wrap my arm around her shoulder, allowing her to rest her head. "No one's going to break us, sis."
Becca goes back to her business as quick as possible. As do I.
Hayden and Scarlett, apparently, have planned a party in celebration of, and I quote, 'those toxic fuckers dying'. So I needed to get changed.
Or at least, that was on my mind until I heard crying from Alexi's room.
Pity consumed my entire body, and I rush into the room without a second thought. She's asleep, but crying and screaming into her pillow.
I sit down next to her, shaking her awake and bringing her into my arms.
"It's okay. It's okay. Let it all out." I whisper, running my fingers through her hair.
Her hands clenched into a fist around my shirt, and I can already feel the tears hit my shoulder. Her body shakes and her whimpers hit me like a ton of bricks. "I need him. I need my brother."
"I know." I soothe, "Let it out, Lex, it's okay."
She screams and cries until her voice is hoarse and her eyes empty.
***
Confidence is power, and power is key.
That phrase echoes throughout my mind as I walk into the Ballroom, that we deserve only for special occasions.
Like our enemies getting slaughtered.
Everyone is separated within their own groups. As usual, the dance floor is occupied by Hayden, Scarlett, River and Addy, and the other groups are scattered across the room.
I can't help but notice how one figure is missing from the room.
My doubts regarding Astrid consumed my mind constantly, her connection with Rogue appeared to run too deep to be a minor incident, yet my attraction to her was making it too difficult to act upon.
Denying that I wanted her in every sense of the world would be cruel and callous lie.
And, to me, lying is one of man's greatest flaws.
With that thought, the door opened.
The door was old; you could tell by just looking at it. Scratches etched their way along the bottom half of it and the edges were uneven and cracked. The charcoal paint had began fading and breaking away.
No one had bothered to repaint it.
It served as a reminder to us all, that all things ugly could have a beautiful undercoat. Just as the room perceived as ugly from the outside, could look incredibly wonderful if you just search for more.
All of us cherished this room, the reminder that even in such a dark world that beauty still existed.
I've never adored this room as much as I did when Miss Cleveland walked through the door.
She looks absolutely astounding in her long, black dress. Her stunning lips are painted with that dark red, iconic lipstick, the one that framed her beauty entirely. Her hair is shorter, and I can't help but think that she cut it that way for a reason, even though she suits the new look. A knowing smirk gave away her intentions as she glided towards the dance floor, sending a quick glance to me. I can't keep my eyes away as she moves like she just conquered the whole world.
She's far from stupid.
She knows that with that one, teasing look, I won't be able to resist wanting more.
Astrid Cleveland is playing a game with me, a game that we both know I want to win.
I stand up, surging forward to meet her on the dancefloor. Her eyes ignite with mischief, but I can't stop playing.
She's drunk, I realise suddenly. The steel-blue is glassy, and I can smell the whiskey on her breath as she breathes heavily.
"Astrid-"
"Don't call me that." She sways, "Come on, Taylor. I want to go home." Her voice breaks slightly at the last word, and my brows furrow.
"You are home, Angel." I speak softly to her, catching her in my arms.
A sad smile creeps up her delicate face, and the amount of pain I can see almost breaks my stone heart.
I grab her hand gently, and push her out of the room. We go to my room.
Our lips meet almost instantly. A kiss consumed with passion, and aggression, and desire all in one. She claims me as hers the moment our lips touch.
Her hand unconsciously moves up my back, leaving goosebumps in her wake, and then tangles itself in my hair. She moans against my lips as I pull her closer towards me.
We break apart, and I pant as her lips attack my neck. Biting my lip to surprise a groan, I hold my breath as my dick begins to harden.
Fuck.
I need her.
"Arry," I mumble against her lips, as she moves them back up to mine. "Do you wanna....Are you sure?" I question as she nods.
I pull away from her, not giving her a verbal reply. I pull my tie off and throw it to the ground, unbuttoning my shirt.
Her hands meet my chest as soon as the shirt hits my bedroom floor, they explore my entire body and I get lost in her touch.
"Turn around," I whisper in her ear, gently tugging down the zip on her dress. It falls down around her ankles, and I hold her hands as she steps out of it.
"Beautiful." I smiled, turning her to face me. "So fucking beautiful." I feel her shiver, and I bite my lip in order to stop a full-grown smirk illuminating my face.
I kiss her again. Slow. Deep. Dirty. My tongue dipped in her mouth and hers did the same, our lips barely leaving each others. Her kisses were like my own personal drug, intoxicating and addictive.
They had me craving for more.
Her hands move down to my waistband, unfastening my belt and pulling my pants down without breaking the kiss for even a second. Astrid flinches as I place my cold hands on her back, rubbing soft circles with my thumb. They trail higher and higher until they meet her bra strap, and I hesitate once more.
"I want to." She mutters against my lips, "Hurry."
Well I'd hate to keep a girl waiting.
***
The monster inside of me fall silent as my head rests on her lap.
"Was that your first time?" I ask quietly, closing my eyes.
"No." She runs her fingers through my messy hair, "You?"
"Mhm." I reply inaudibly, too tired to speak properly.
"I don't know what to do anymore, Taylor." She admits, even though I'm barely listening. Her touch moves to my hands next, she feels them carefully. "Your hands are scarred from murder, and yet I trust you completely. I don't understand it."
"We do what we have to." I sign, burrowing my head further into her lap.
"That was your first fuck but you've killed more times than I can count. I don't understand it." I can physically feel her biting her lip, despite not being able to see her face. "I kill just one person for the first time in forever and I feel -" Her voice cracks.
I use my elbows to pull myself up, glancing at her tear-stained face before moving my gaze away. "Killing people never feels justifiable. I'm sorry that you feel like this but you can't change what happened. Dean would've died eventually, I do honestly believed you saved him from dying a painful death."
"But-"
"Astrid, trust me. Dean wasn't fit for this world, he would've died one way or another. I'm sorry it's your burden. I'm sorry that you have to carry that weight with you. But you need to remember that we do all this things in order to survive. You need to tell yourself that what you did was right, even if you don't believe it."