Chapter 109: Chapter 109: DON’T HATE ME

VALORIA WILDEROSE

“Maybe you should go in and relax, give her a little time?” Calliope suggests, and it’s not a bad idea.

Reluctantly I rise from the table, books wrapped tightly to my chest after being forgotten amidst the confusion.

She and Elodie wave goodbye as I head back towards the main building, braving a smile that fades the second I’m out of sight.

As much as I want to be optimistic, I can’t help the thoughts that maybe she’ll never get over it. Maybe she thinks I’m in some secret relationship with Azrael and hates me.

What if she starts believing that I lied to them and I’m really after the power and fame like the rumors say?

My mind spirals, my heart sinks. I realize I can’t let it go as it is and I can’t relax—not until I’ve explained myself completely and proven to them that it’s not true.

Not until I’m completely sure that they believe me.

“What do you think, Eros?” I pause and look at him, desperate for him to tell me I’m not insane.

That it didn’t look like there’s anything going on between Azrael and me—just a harmless conversation with a little bickering.

“Me?” He points to himself, not expecting to be pulled in for commentary.

He watched it unfold from the background, every single interaction we had, so he’d know where the misunderstandings sprang from. He’ll at least have an idea.

“Yeah, you’re usually indifferent. I get the feeling like you won’t waste time trying to preserve my feelings or react based on assumptions.”

“I think you should talk to your friends. Yara especially,” he responds as plainly as I expect him to.

I sigh, agreeing with him, but then…

“I don’t want them to hate me.”

“It’s an understandable fear, and their reactions were also understandable,” he points out again, splaying the variables out on the theoretical table in front of us.

And again he’s right. Hating me is only a logical reaction considering what Azrael has done in the past and what he probably will still do as the mad Lycan king.

In turn I can’t help but react to that fact with trepidation.

“This was what I was trying to avoid and why I kept as much as I could away from our discussions. I didn’t want them to misunderstand.”

“Did they?”

Now I glare at him.

“Don’t tell me you also think we have something going on. Azrael and I are like oil and water; we don’t mix. What you all saw back there was just he and I being comfortable about what awaits ahead of us.”

The final showdown at the end of this long and twisted game of hide and seek—him against me, dagger against claw, with only one of us emerging out of it alive.

If there were really something going on, I wouldn’t be plotting to kill him and he wouldn’t be spinning this long elaborate ruse to entertain himself until the inevitable end.

It’s just not possible.

Eros, seemingly uninterested in arguing further, agrees without a scuffle.

“I still think you should talk to Yara.”

“You’re right.”

It’s the best place to start from. Convincing Yara, and maybe the rest will follow one step at a time.

If only I could just flat out say, “I’ve been given a second chance at life by the moon goddess Selene to kill Azrael and save the world from the inevitable end he desires to bring upon it. And he knows, which is why he’s taking his sweet time enjoying me fumble on my mission.”

It would save me the stress, but I can’t.

I take Eros’s advice, rerouting to Yara’s room instead and standing in front of the door that stands between her and me with hesitation.

It’s now or never.

“Are you going to follow me in?”

For the first time since he’s started tagging along, I consider needing him to be there for support, but he shakes his head.

“No, you’ve won this round. I’ll tell Azrael you don’t need constant supervision,” he says with a silent affirmation that I can do it on my own.

I nod, deciding he’s right.

“Thank you.”

He offers a final bow before walking away, leaving me by myself.

I gather my confidence with a big inhale before knocking on her door. She doesn’t respond the first or second time, filling me with disappointment.

Maybe coming here was a mistake and she’s not even here.

Yet the sound of something thrashing on the inside confirms otherwise.

“Yara?”

I knock again, harder this time so she can hear it—enough for the unlocked door to become slightly ajar and for me to realize it’s open.

A silent invitation and temptation. I fight the intrusive thoughts for only a few seconds before I give in and walk into her room.

Tiptoeing and clasping the door shut behind me as quietly as possible.

I tell myself that I’m too far in to regret it now, and the only way to make up for sneaking into her room without permission is to find her and apologize.

From the moment I’m inside this new world, I’m hit with scents and aromas from a different world, with décor and arrangements unlike the typical things used in your home on this part of the continent.

There are incenses and handcrafted decors with intricately molded ceramic pots in odd shapes and lavish fabrics with exotic patterns on them splayed around.

Figurines and artworks like a posh museum, with plush pillows set in her small entertainment area above a bright dazzling comfy rug rather than the typical boring couches and a table.

It smells like heaven in here—calming and sweet like the richest spices being blended.

Oddly calming and satisfying with a cozy sense of home, even though I’ve never been anywhere that smells like this.

I’m perusing every artwork on the shelves before I can stop myself, until I feel her standing behind me along with the searing aura of her rage.

“What are you doing in here?”

Slowly I turn to her, knowing that I’m screwed, coming face to face with her heated glare that melts away all that confidence I had walking in here.

I smile sheepishly, trembling and barely holding myself from pissing my pants in front of her.

“I just… I wanted to… I knocked but no one was answering,” I explain frantically, searching for a good enough excuse to explain why I’m in here with a nervous smile.

She remains unimpressed.

“I was ignoring you.”

“I know.” I admit with defeat. “I shouldn’t have come here and I shouldn’t have come in uninvited.”

“If you know, then leave.”

She gestures towards her door and the crushing feeling of panic begins to squeeze its way in.

“I just wanted to talk.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Then I’ll talk,” I argue, half pleading. “There’s nothing between Azrael and me. He only toys with me as some form of entertainment. He doesn’t take me seriously and neither do I.”

“I don’t care.” Her brutally honest words ring out coldly, shattering every hope of reconciliation I had built up in my head before coming here.

Like the floor is being swept from beneath my feet.

“I just need you to listen to me. I don’t like him!”

“Why should I listen to anything you have to say?” She cuts me off before I can rant again about the things I need her to hear before I leave. “After you refused to respect my privacy.”

She’s right again. I made a mistake and made things worse. My fears and panic begin to manifest as tears brimming in my eyes.

“Because I don’t want you to hate me again,” I confess, bursting into an ugly cry I’ve been trying to hold back since.

Sniffling and trembling without control.

“Please don’t hate me. Don’t ignore me. I’ll apologize for everything and I won’t ever come in here again. Just don’t stop being friends with me.”

I hide my face away, unable to take anymore of her rejection yet expecting every bit of it from her—ready to be tossed out of her room for barging in like a psychopath and forcing her to talk when she’s not even ready to.

But then I hear her sigh, deep and heavy, before her cold indifferent gaze melts away into something softened, exhausted yet warm.

“We’re not in kindergarten. I’m not going to hate you for keeping some things to yourself or getting curious enough to walk into my room, even though it’s annoying.”

I pause from my tears, looking up at her slowly, rubbing at my eyes.

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