WRATH

It was as if I had been shackled to Patience, her scent dragging me toward her.

I was crazed. Starved. Violent.

And I couldn't wait to get my hands on her.

The iron cage bent easily beneath my grip as I pushed two iron bars apart and stepped out. The beings that had gathered to watch my mate and I fight cheered. The referee barked a series of panicked orders that went over my head as I aimed for the window Patience had flown through.

My wings were out of control, flapping fiercely as my Sin sought her out.

I could smell her in the breeze that washed over my face; her scent was everywhere. My gaze landed on a puddle of blood outside the building, and something sharp tugged at my chest.

I had not hurt her in the fight. I had not drawn a single speck of blood from her skin.

Which means something else had.

Something wild and unleashed fuelled the flames of my Sin.

She was hurt.

Before I knew it, I was back in the camp, following her trail like a rabid dog. I turned sharp corner after corner, my wings propelling me through the grey corridors. The dirty walls suddenly turned into a clean, medicinal white when that sweet, mellow scent hit me.

I ground my feet into the floor, my wings faltering, and threw the door open.

There she is.

Red was a brutal colour. The colour of danger, of warning, of poison. But somehow, on Patience the colour was soft. Gentle. Delicate. Her calm gaze held mine as my eyes dropped to the crimson lipstick smeared across her lips and down her chin.

My wings eased back into my back with a slice.

"There's nothing like the end to a chase, is there?" I asked.

"No there isn't," she answered.

I had to fight to stop the growl building in my chest from ripping through my throat.

Even her voice—her silky voice, the way her lips rounded around the words—made me want to lose control.

She looked like she had taken a fall, her clothes torn haphazardly. A crimson cut sat above her brow. Something twisted in my chest—and almost as if on cue, Patience's Virtue reached out to my Sin.

It hurt that she could predict my behaviour so well. She had known that seeing her in those tight clothes, with her red lipstick and open hair would make me snap.

And snap I did.

She might have won the fight in the ring.

But I knew—I felt it deep in my soul—that she would lose every encounter between us from now on.

Because I was going to make her break. I wanted to shatter the mask of control she wore. I wanted her to feel the same burning rush of fire in my veins I felt whenever she was close.

"Giving up already?" I drawled, inching toward her.

She rose to her feet and backed into the wall behind her. Where I craved her presence, she found mine repelling. My darkness devoured her light, ate into the shroud of serenity she kept draped over her shoulders.

And she fucking hated it.

"Never." Her face remained impassive. Made of marble: flawless, impassive and cold. I wanted to etch into that smooth porcelain skin of hers. I wanted to mark her.

My heart was pounding against my ribcage, battling the looming threat of my raging Sin. I wanted so badly to let my Sin take over, to gather her in my arms and make her react to me like I did to her.

But that would mean she won.

And I would never lose to Patience. Never.

"The fight is over, Wrath. I won," she said matter-of-factly.

Her calmness stung. It always stung. Like the piercing burn of venom: she was calm during the fight, she was calm when she was hurt, she was calm when the Nine Muses falsely blessed us.

I had raged like an animal after the fake ceremony. But Patience–Patience had not shown a sliver of emotion.

Because I did not affect her like she affected me.

"No, Patience." I let her name roll over my tongue. "The fight has just begun."

PATIENCE

I had learned to find peace in losing to Wrath. In letting his coils of rage cool against my Virtue.

But this—this was different.

He was smouldering. I could almost smell the burn of his Sin, the rage clear on his face.

My face grew warm as he neared, as if someone had held a flame to my skin, and I pressed my back harder into the cold wall behind me.

It was as though a mask had been lifted off his face, and I watched as the dark, inky red of his eyes morphed into something sharper. Like pain.

He dropped his lips to my ear, his voice husky. "You don't care about anything, do you Patience?"

I had always struggled to think around him and the confusion in my head was not helping. I willed a series of breaths through my nose. "I don't know what you're talking about."

A voice croaked from behind the white curtain in the corner of the room. "Water," the green being said.

Wrath did not react; it was as if he had honed in on me completely, his hot gaze unwavering on mine.

I looked away from him. "What do you want from me?" My throat had trembled, my thoughts wary but my voice came out even, loyal to my curse. Not a sliver of emotion escaped.

Wrath held my chin between two fingers, and lifted my face to his. His broad shoulders shifted closer until they were all I could see, and I suddenly itched to trace my fingers over his muscles. His bare skin radiated warmth that rushed straight to my core and I found myself my legs together.

"I want to see you break," he said, his voice lowering. His index finger dragged a slow, warm path down my cheek. "I want to see you fall apart like I do, Patience."

I swallowed at his closeness. "Why?"

"Please, water," the being asked again.

Wrath let out a humourless laugh before dropping his grip to my neck. He squeezed lightly. "Because I have wanted you since the dawn of time," he confessed. "Because I react to your presence like a moth to a flame, but you–" His hold on my neck tightened. "You could not care less."

Tears formed behind my eyelids. I ached to let loose the emotions coursing through my veins. I ached to cry, to scream, to shout. I ached to slice through the iron restraints of my curse.

I ached to show him the true, bloody shade of my soul.

Because the truth was that I ached to break.

And if I could, I would break for Wrath.

"Water," the being choked. "Please."

I slipped out of Wrath's hold, and drew open the being's curtain. I could not look at Wrath any longer–at the emotions scrawled so clearly over his expressions.

The being's eyes widened, his green skin wrinkling at the corners.

"I'm sorry," he began, curling up on his bed as if the very presence of Wrath would scar him.

Taking the empty cup from my bed, I poured him some water. The being stared at me warily before accepting it with shaky hands.

"Thank y–"

A dangerously low growl tore through the air.

And I didn't dare turn around.

••••

I promise I meant to upload sooner!! But my cat went missing for a painful 16 hours and I couldn't focus on anything </3

Wrath and Patience are complex characters and they both have their own short comings. No judging of Wrath and his uncontrolled emotions please because this is what makes him him. <333

I am already working on the next chapter and hopefully I will get this to you guys in the next few days. It's gonna be longer chapter one so stay tuned xx

Follow me on insta @//devilishtales for live updates!!

Remember to turn that star orange xx

Lots and lots of love,
Laila.