So I 100% almost forgot that I was posting a chapter today. I had to finish the edits for this way too late at night while my meds were wearing off and caffeine was no longer an option. I'm sorry if there are a couple errors that seem really basic, and I make no promises to fix them any time soon lol.

Don't forget to vote and comment and, most importantly,

Enjoy!

~

Darkness surrounded her. Thick and oppressing, it curled around her like the fog of the blackest magic. Because it was magic. She knew this magic. It was them.

She needed to run. Run as far away from them as she could.

As she turned, she was hit by a powerful gaze. A sickly, swampy green filled them as they loomed over her. Their power tightened around her, crushing the air out of her lungs. Hot breath brushed across her face, their hands caressed her body...

She jerked away from them and their stifling power and started to run. But, no matter how hard or fast she ran, that power followed her. It clung to her, sticking to her relentlessly.

She could still see those eyes. She could still feel their breath on her neck. A voice whispered in her ear, so close their lips brushed against her skin. "Found you..."

Kate shot straight up in the bed, screaming. The sheets were drenched, and her body was covered in a fine layer of sweat. Looking around, she didn't recognize where she was.

Panic, fueled by adrenaline, hit her like a freight truck. She flew across the room to slam the door closed and jammed a chair under the handle. Then, grabbing a second chair, she flung it as hard as she could against the window. It bounced off the glass without even cracking it. No escaping that way.

There was a second door, and she ran for it, scooping up her backpack from the floor along the way. This door led to a bathroom, and she locked herself in.

Dreams. Nightmares. Visions. They were all back. They hadn't been that vivid since... she cut that thought off and ripped open the bag. Someone was banging on the outside door and shouting. Her fear intensified as she emptied the contents of the bag across the floor to get at the bottom. She didn't know how she got here, wherever here was, and couldn't remember how she lost her arm. She didn't want to remember what they were about to do to her now.

She opened the concealed zipper and tore through the padding until she found it. The shaking in her hand eased. Even with one arm missing, muscle memory quickly took over. Needle. Venom. A rubber band around her leg. She just wanted it to be quiet. Block out their voice... their gaze... their commands.

The door burst open. "NO!"

Magic flooded the room, and the order sent white-hot spears of pain through her skull. She fought against the bond and his commands. She wouldn't let them win! She needed this!

Cyrille grabbed her wrist and twisted hard, forcing her to drop the needle, and jerked her up and away from the drugs. She screamed in a mix of desperation and rage and fear as he dragged her back into the room. The second she was across the threshold, he half threw her back on the bed to give him enough space to pull the door closed again.

Kate scrabbled up to launch at him, but he caught her around the waist and used his weight to pin her down. "Get off me!" she screamed, twisting and writhing under him.

"Katalin, stop!"

Shivers rippled through her, making her body feel stiff and heavy. Tears started to stream down her face. She was losing the fight against his commands. "Please," she begged. "I need... I need it... I can't..."

"It's okay," he said earnestly. "You're okay."

"You don't understand," she sobbed. "I need it. I need to stop!"

"You're okay," he whispered again. "It's just a craving. They're going to be intense for a while."

"I can't do this," she sobbed. "I can't, I can't..."

Suddenly, she gave in and stopped fighting. She curled into his chest and started to cry hysterically. Cyrille rolled to his side and held her close, brushing his hand through her hair. They lay there together for a long time until his shirt was nearly soaked through. When she ran out of tears, she continued to cling to him, scared that he might slip away from her life if she let go. Wherever she was, as long as he was with her, she knew she was safe.

That was new. When was the last time she felt safe?

Slowly, her breathing eased, and her shivering lessened. "What happened, kitten?" he asked softly.

"Bad dream..." she whimpered. "I don't... where are we?"

"My house in the catacombs. You're safe."

"But..." his hold on her waist prevented her from sitting up, but she was able to look around. This was not the same black room in which she'd spent the last six weeks. The walls around her were painted a cool, dark grey, and the sheets under them were white. "How...?"

"I put a powerful concealment spell across this part of the realm," he explained. "Once you crossed the barrier near the city, everything opened to you."

"Why?"

"Last set of precautions. If a stranger somehow gets through the wards and the archangels, they still can't get to the city without guidance. Now that you've been to the city, you can cross back and forth whenever you like."

She looked up at him with puffy red eyes. "I can go back to the surface?"

"Of course. It was never my intention to keep you here against your will. Just while we got you through your withdrawal." He brought his hand up and stroked her sunken cheek softly. "If you ever feel like you need to run away again, I want you to come here."

Doubt flickered across her face, and she hesitated.

"You are a part of the legion now. The archangels will protect you. Even if who you need protection from is one of the High Sins."

She didn't actually ask the question, but it still hurt knowing that she might be so afraid of him that she would want to run away.

Kate sniffed and stared at the wet patch of his shirt. She was still shaking slightly, but the panic started to taper off. She had acted on pure instinct in those few moments. Six weeks in the hellscape that was venom withdrawal, and in a mere second of weakness, she could have ruined it all. She thought she would hate Cyrille for forcing her to get sober. A part of her was still pissed. But ultimately, it had worked. She didn't want to go through those six weeks again.

"Where did you get it?" His voice was soft and soothing, but she still flinched as if he'd snapped. 

"Backpack," she whispered back.

He went stone still for a full minute before laughing in a sad, desperate way. "We searched every inch of your apartment for your stash, and in the end, we brought it straight to you."

"I'm sorry," she whimpered.

"Don't apologize," he sighed heavily. "I knew this wasn't going to be easy. I shouldn't have left you alone. Is that all of it?"

She nodded before stopping and looking up at him again. "You searched my apartment?"

"Yes, but we didn't find any."

"There... there is still some there."

Another deep sigh and her heart got even heavier. "I want you to flush it. All of it."

She nodded but didn't make a move to get up. Cyrille didn't force her up either. This was something she would have to do on her own. He felt her attitude towards recovery shift from unwilling participation to the shame of nearly relapsing. She was finally on the right track.

Kate didn't move for what could have been hours for all she was able to tell. The whole time, Cyrille was quiet and still, doing nothing but keeping one arm around her waist and the other combing through her hair. Her mom used to do that. He probably didn't even realize how comforting it was for her.

He made her feel like she could do anything. Be anyone. For the first time in a long time, she had... hope. A glimpse into the future she could have. A home... safety... love. Danika always talked about having kids, but Kate never let herself think about that. Now though... Cyrille created several breeds of demons, but what kind of father would he be?

Nope!

Kate sat up sharply and scrubbed her face to hide the red-hot blush creeping up her cheeks. She tried shoving the last thought out of her head. She couldn't, wouldn't let herself think anything along those times. That wasn't going to happen.

Not. happening.

"Katalin," he reached for her, and she flinched away. "Are you alright?"

She squeaked out an unintelligible answer and crawled out of the bed. Cyrille followed her cautiously, not wanting to spook her again but also not allowing her the opportunity to lock herself in with the drugs.

The clothes Celeste brought were strewn across the floor. Taking the backpack, he looked it over carefully. Kate had removed the original padding entirely and replaced it with a slightly thicker material. A rectangle the exact size and shape of one of the venom boxes was cut out from the middle. It wouldn't get through an airport or any security with an x-ray machine, but it would fool anyone doing a simple pat-down or basic search. It was simple and effective.

Kate stood stock still at the door. Staring at the discarded needle and bottles of venom in the corner. She was chewing her lip again and a look of desperation and fear marring her beauty. Knowing there was only so much to her feeble resistance, Cyrille picked up the needle, emptied it into the toilet, and crushed it. "Are there any others?" he asked her, applying a slight pressure through their bond.

"Back at the apartment," she answered in a soft whisper.

When she didn't move, he reached out to stroke her cheek. "Take your time. We are in no rush."

She was still for another few minutes. Fighting the urge to use again was harder than she thought it would be. It called to her, promising a whole night's sleep and an escape from the nightmares. An escape from the hellish memories she was forced to live with.

But, for the first time in five years, she had more to lose by sticking with it. At some point, Darius would stop caring. Eventually, Cyrille would lose faith in her. One day, even Danika would give up.

Kate took small, slow steps toward the scattered vials. Her heart thudded painfully against her chest. The smell of the acrid liquid made her mouth water as she unscrewed the caps. Her hands shook violently as she tipped the bottles and drained the contents into the toilet.

The second she pressed the plunger, Cyrille dragged her back into him in a crushing hug. "I know this isn't easy," he spoke softly against her hair. "I know you didn't want this. But I'm so proud of you, kitten."

Her arm came around his waist, and she nuzzled her face in his shirt. "Don't call me kitten," she muttered despite the smile tugging at her lips.

His laugh was beautiful and helped lift the weight of her heart. "Morane dropped off the supplement a little while ago. You must be starving."

It took her a few seconds to remember what he was talking about, at which point she remembered that she was mad at him for not telling her about that. As he led her out of the room, she tried to summon the energy to feel the anger or at least glare at him. But, in her emotionally exhausted state, it was too much, and she just let him take her to the kitchen and push her into a chair. "Why didn't you tell me about this 'supplement' thing?"

Cyrille took a small bottle from the counter, dropped a glass in front of her, and poured her two fingers' worth. The liquid that came out had the consistency of gelatin that had only just started to solidify and undercooked scrambled eggs. It was an off-white color and smelled like sour milk mixed with rotting flesh. "That's why," he said, replacing the cork and laughing as she shoved away from the table.

"I am not drinking that," she gagged.

"Yes, you are," he smirked. "You're too weak to feed the proper way, and now that you're my responsibility, I'm not going to let you starve yourself."

"This is a joke, right? You can't, honestly... What is it?!"

His silence stretched between them, and an uncomfortable look crossed his features. "The harpies have a particular way of sharing souls," he said carefully. "It's... probably best to just think of it as a liquid soul."

Her eyes flared, and her voice lowered to a dangerous hiss. "Harpy jizz?" she gawked.

"It's not-" he couldn't finish, he was laughing so hard.

"You expect me to drink harpy jizz?!"

"Just take a breath and swallow it, kitten," he winked, and she turned bright red. "Harpies can ferment souls for long periods before expelling it in a liquid form. Usually, it's for feeding their young, but the legion has found ways to use it for a number of things. Like reintroducing addicts to real souls. Or training younglings to hunt safely and responsibly."

She looked down at the glass and shrunk in on herself. "I don't want to hunt," she said quietly.

"Later, Katalin. One step at a time, okay? Drink." He spoke the last word through their bond, and her fingers wrapped around the glass before she could stop herself. She glared at him, and he smirked. "It's going to take a while before you're ready to take an entire soul. Weeks, maybe even months. We'll have something figured out by then."

"I was... fine when you fed me." She turned a deeper shade of red and didn't look him in the eye.

"I didn't feed you even a tenth of a soul," he said gently. "I pushed you that night. I didn't realize just how bad your situation was. You weren't strong enough then. You're definitely not strong enough now. Drink."

Reluctantly, she pulled the glass closer and looked down at the... liquid? Solid? Jizz really was the best description for the weird state of the contents. "How... how often to I need to... um..." she wasn't sure if drink or eat was the right word. "Have this?"

"Every night."

Taking a deep breath, she raised the glass to her lips. The smell almost made her puke right then and there. Come on, Katie, she scolded herself. You've taken motor oil shots with the wolves. You can drink this.

Not letting herself think any longer, she tilted the glass back and tried to swallow without tasting it. It didn't work, and her whole body went rigid. If she had to describe the taste... it would be spoiled milk that had been steeping in an ogre's boot for the last decade.

Cyrille watched her start gagging. The effects were immediate, and her eyes shimmered to life. The shadows under her eyes faded, and the blemishes in her skin vanished. For a brief moment, she was glowing in power. He didn't think it was possible for her to be any more beautiful.

Shuddering, Kate bent over to hang her head between her knees. "What now?" she asked, taking slow breaths and willing herself not to vomit.

"I think we should go back to your apartment and get rid of the rest of the venom," he said carefully. "Then you can decide if you're ready to stay on the surface or if you want to come back here for a few days."

After a moment, she nodded and took his offered hand. "I can't believe you feed kids that stuff," she shuddered when he took the bottle from the table.

"They don't exactly sell demonic formula at the grocery store," he chuckled. "Harpies have an ability that no other demon has, so we utilize it when necessary."

She had a response ready, but it fell away when she stepped through the door with him. The blackness had lifted here too, but it was darker than the city. The stars were deeper blues and rich purples and a lot more spread out. Kate looked up at them with pure wonder. The grass she'd felt before was a dark green-grey and a little over ankle height. It stretched out forever in rolling hills, all under the blanket of stars.

After a long moment, Cyrille took her hand and guided her down the road away from the city. She kept looking around, unable to believe that all of this existed under Paris. It was torture. Pure torture. He didn't typically stop himself when he wanted someone. And gods, did he want her. He wanted her to love it here. He wanted her to love... him.

The road turned into a path, and the path faded into a barely discernable trail in the fields. They continued to walk towards a giant rock that had no right to be there. There was a slight glow to it, and the closer they got, the more Kate noticed the power radiating out from a crack right down the middle. That had to be the way back to the surface realm.

It materialized from the darkness silently when they were only ten feet away from the crack. Illuminated only by the entrance and the glow of their eyes, the archangel towered intimidatingly over Cyrille. Impassive and unafraid of the consequences of challenging a High Sin.

In mere moments, dozens of them had gathered, with dozens more still forming, surrounding them. Under his crushing grip, Kate felt his hammering pulse. The warriors of Wrath stood silently and did not make a move to attack, yet he was clearly terrified of them.

Cyrille tried pulling her even closer, but she resisted. Keeping his awareness on the demon in front of him, he glanced down at her. She was facing the archangel that had appeared directly behind them. Panic lanced through his veins. What the hell was going on with these bastards? They never acted out like this!

The archangel behind them slowly lowered itself to one knee, keeping their burning eyes on Kate. A clawed hand reached out, and grey smoke started to swirl around its palm. It closed its hand around the stem of a little red flower. "Katalin," Cyrille breathed a warning.

She ignored him and reached for the offering. To his absolute amazement, she didn't show any sign of being afraid. Even a slight smile played on her lips, and her golden eyes were glistening. "Thank you," she whispered.

The mass of demons around them faded back to grey smoke and vanished at her words. All except the one that handed her the flower. That one silently rose to its full height and turned its eyes on Cyrille. It never spoke. It held the same intensity all archangels had. Yet, this one seemed to be trying to tell him something. Or warn him.

Kate looked up at him and smiled reassuringly. How was this woman scared of absolutely everything except the archangels?

Not wanting to stick around any longer or do anything that would set off the guardians, Cyrille quickly crossed the remaining distance to the shimmering crack between this realm and the surface. He didn't breathe until they were on the other side and didn't speak until they were in the car. "What are you, Katalin?" he couldn't hold the shaking in his voice.

She stiffened before pulling her knees up to her chin and staring at the flower. "I already told you," she muttered cryptically.

"You said you take after your father," he insisted. "Who I assume is an incubus. You mother... Are they one of Wrath's?"

This wasn't the first time he'd considered it. But every time, he waved off the thought as impossible. It was impossible. No one even knew how most of Wrath's spawn reproduced. They never seemed to take mates or recognizably male or female forms. Brand new, fully matured adults just appeared out of nowhere.

But as impossible as it was, there was no other explanation. Archangels did not treat anyone the way they treated her. Like she was some precious gem that needed to be protected and adored. Unfortunately, it also meant that she was probably right. She would kill if she hunted.

The uncomfortable silence stretched between them as he drove. Kate stared at the flower and wondered what her mother would think if she told him. Surely, she wouldn't mind him, of all people knowing. After all, he was...

She stopped thinking. Later. Maybe she could tell him later. When things were better. When she figured out what she wanted. Just not... yet.

Darius came out the door as they pulled up, and the sight of the old lycan made her smile. "You better not be expecting sick time for the mess you got yourself in," he growled while dragging her into a crushing hug. His tone then softened to a low rumble. "I missed you, kid."

She choked out a laugh to cover her own rising emotions. "I bet you did," she smirked. "You actually had to work! You poor thing."

"Smartass," he growled and looked to Cyrille. "She's back for good, right?"

"That's up to her," Cyrille shrugged. "Once we clear out the rest of her supply here, that is."

Darius nodded, ruffled her hair, and turned back to the bar. Kate headed for the stairs that would take them up to her apartment. The familiar smell of old hardwood and brick greeted her like an old friend. She never thought she would miss this place. When she gave herself to Cyrille, she hadn't expected return to the surface at all, let alone the apartment.

Cyrille made a huffing sound behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder. He looked positively monstrous in the tiny, hundred-square-foot apartment. It was barely big enough for her. The bathroom only had a toilet and a small shower, so she had to wash her hands in the kitchen sink. The kitchen itself was equipped with a portable hot plate, coffee machine, and a minifridge. Her bed was, unsurprisingly, a single. For some reason, Darius had crammed a small, old leather reading chair in the corner that Kate couldn't hope to move even if she tried. "What?" she asked him cautiously.

"Nothing," he shook his head. "I just can't believe you live here. I think my closet is bigger than this."

"I sleep here," she corrected with a shrug and looked around again. "I've never really lived anywhere. I've always been ready to get up and go if I had to."

"I can find you something bigger with better security if it will make you feel better."

Kate felt a rock forming in her stomach. "I... sort of thought you would want me to stay..." heat rose in her face, and she stuttered to a stop.

"You can't come back to Tentation."

"Oh," the weight was suddenly gone, and a new kind of emptiness filled her.

She started to turn away when he swore under his breath and caught her arm. "Damnit, Katalin, I want you there, you just... we put venom through the ventilation. You can't be there because of your addiction."

She let out a breath, and the sudden tension drained from her shoulders. Then, not trusting herself to speak, she turned away again. She opened the door to the fridge and pulled off one of the plastic panels to pull the vial out of the cavity in the insulation.

This was the last bottle. After this, she wouldn't have anything to fall back on. When the nightmares and voices started to get worse, she wouldn't have an easy way to deal with them. There wasn't even a guarantee that Cyrille would be there to help her again.

"Katalin," his voice sounded far away. "Katalin, are you still with me."

"I... I can't..."

"You can."

"But... what if...?"

"No," he grabbed her chin and dragged her eyes up to him. "Don't do that. Don't think like that. You can do this."

As she stared into his eyes, her trembling stopped. His touch was electrifying. His arms weren't her cage but her armor. Anything was possible at his side. She felt she could do anything.

Kate didn't open the bottle. Instead, she threw it into the sink, where it shattered into a dozen pieces. Cyrille lowered his head and caught her mouth in a soft kiss.

~