Matt found trouble. He would say unintentionally, but desire had led his way into the temple district, and straight to Malluk’s temple. And it wasn’t accidental that a fight broke out with the two guards standing outside. The savage delight in his eyes said this was exactly what he had wanted.
A dark haired man with a crooked nose, took a swing but Matt dodged it. Then, from behind, a tall dirty blond tried to thrust with his sword. Matt turned around quickly and kicked the man’s hand. His sword flew up and Matt caught it in midair. He used it to block an attack from the first man and then slammed the hilt into the second man’s head. The man fell to the ground—down but not out.
He slashed at the first man, slicing his upper arm, then punched him before turning to kick the man who was just starting to get up off the ground. He fell back with a grunt. The first thrust toward him and Matt side stepped it before slamming the hilt of the sword he was holding into the man’s wrist and took his weapon as well. He kicked the man in the chest, sending him flying, then landing hard on his back. The second man struggled to his feet and backed away.
The first man only made it to his knees before Matt was there. He dropped one of the swords and held the other to man’s chest, then grabbed his hand and pressed back on the index finger of his right hand, his sword hand. “Beg,” Matt told him, then snapped the finger before he had a chance to speak. Matt enjoyed the sound, enjoyed the satisfying crack of a bone breaking.
“Beg,” he repeated. This time he paused a few seconds before breaking the middle finger. The man gave a muffled groan as he tried not to cry out. Matt broke another and waited a few seconds longer.
Just as the pinky was pulled back, the man whispered the word, “please.”
Matt was surprised and disgusted at him giving in so quickly. “You’re a pathetic disgrace,” he snarled and broke the finger. He grabbed his wrist next, but paused when he noticed a man standing in the doorway of the temple. He was a tall man, with a haughty face, a pointed nose, and long dark hair that was tied back at the nape of his neck. “Julian,” Matt greeted coldly.
“Priest Julian,” he corrected. “You always did have something against titles, Mathias. Ironic,” he mused with the touch of a smile. He studied Matt for a long moment before asking calmly, “Well? Are you going to kill him or not?”
Matt considered it briefly, then grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair, and threw him roughly to the ground at the priest’s feet. “You deal with it,” he said, as if he were talking about a bag of garbage instead of a person.
The man looked more terrified now, knowing the priest would do worse than kill him. He would be punished for being weak, for begging. Killing him would have been a show of mercy.
Julian nodded once, pleased by the choice. “Inside,” he ordered. The defeated guards made their way slowly into the temple while Julian shook his head at Matt. “I was astonished when I heard that you had destroyed your mother and turned against our dark god. Of all Malluk’s people, I would have never believed you capable of such betrayal, of such weakness.”
“I don’t call having a mind of my own weak,” Matt replied evenly.
“You could have been great, perhaps as good as your mother. I actually believed you might have been better… in time. All you lacked was her ambition.” Julian shook his head again, then turned to leave.
“Not going to try to kill me?” Matt asked with a huff of surprise.
Julian turned back. “That would be a waste.”
“How’s that?”
He glanced briefly to Matt’s wrist, to where his hellhound birthmark had once been. “Malluk’s mark only brought out qualities that were already inside you, Mathias. They are still there now that it’s gone. You have an innate talent for cruelty.” He said the last word as if it were sacred. “One can only hope that someday you will come to see the error of your ways, and seek to redeem yourself in His eyes.”
“Not going to happen,” Matt said tightly.
A corner of the priest’s mouth lifted in a knowing smile. “Do you deny the carnal pleasure you feel when giving others pain? Even now, without your mark? When you were standing with Trevlin at your feet, tell me you didn’t feel the surge of power flowing through you as you heard his bones breaking. Tell me you didn’t feel excited when you saw the look of fear in his eyes. Will you lie and say that you didn’t enjoy that?” When there was no answer, Julian answered for him, “No. You only wish I wouldn’t have interrupted you so soon. You wish I would have waited until his blood covered your hands, until he lay completely broken, sobbing at your feet.”
Matt’s jaw clenched, but all he could do was look defiant. Julian had known him his whole life. He knew him still. Matt couldn’t deny that everything he said was true, and the pleasure had be heightened after months of abstaining from any real violence. It felt like going without cigarettes and then taking that first drag. It felt good, it felt… satisfying. Julian was right, it was him, the mark had only made it easier, had only clouded his conscience and kept away any feelings of guilt. But he still craved it, very similarly to the way he craved cigarettes, or even sex. And he still enjoyed it.
Julian gave a soft chuckle when Matt’s silence continued. “You are deluding yourself, Mathias. You are a demon trying to live in the light. But even one as strong as you can’t pretend forever,” he said confidently. His gaze shifted briefly to something behind Matt. “It is only a matter of time until you can’t fight the truth any longer. And be assured, when that day comes, I’ll be waiting to welcome you home.” He turned and his long black robe swished against the ground as he strode inside the temple.
Matt wanted to go after him, to kill him for saying it, but he was frozen in place. Julian had only said what Matt thought himself, what he feared constantly. How could he pass for some good guy when part of him still loved the darkness so much? Especially at times like this, when he was filled with violence, the good in him was a like the flame of a candle in a breeze. It could too easily be blown out.
He turned and started walking down the street with long, angry strides, pausing only to light a cigarette.
“Matt?” Sera sweet voice came from behind him.
The sound caused a sharp pain in his chest. Had she been watching? He blew out some smoke before asking gruffly, “What?”
“Are you okay? I mean, are you hurt at all?”
He turned to look at her incredulously, irritated by the stupid question. “Do I look hurt?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean your not,” she pointed out evenly. “What happened?”
He looked away. “Nothing.”
“Why’d you make that man suffer?” she wanted to know.
He took a drag and let it out slowly. “Because Julian’s right—I like it,” he admitted. And then came that feeling of disgust and self-loathing that he was growing so accustomed to. As soon as he was around her he hated himself. He hated that he couldn’t just be the man she wanted, the man she deserved. “It’s who I am,” he said, his voice quieter now.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed.
He shot her a look of surprise, but quickly looked away again, unable to see the purity in her bright blue eyes.
“But that’s only part of you, and there are a lot more good parts than bad.” She grabbed his hand and put it against her cheek. “You spend much more time being tender than you do being violent.”
He sighed heavily and took his hand away from her. She didn’t understand—an angel like her would never understand—but he didn’t argue. He had learned over the past couple of months to stay quiet when she started spouting her crap. It was over with much quicker that way.
“It’ll take time to really change,” she continued. “It doesn’t happen overnight, and it doesn’t happen without effort. But it does happen. It does get easier. And you are strong enough to not be that… monster anymore,” she told him softly, obviously not wanting to say that word.
It was that word that got to him. No, he didn’t want to be a monster anymore. The flame inside him grew a stronger, making a small effort to fight the darkness he felt. He looked back to where the fight had taken place and shook his head. “I don’t know that I am strong enough,” he told her honestly, then added silently, Sometimes I don’t want to be.
“I believe you are. I have faith in you,” she vowed earnestly.
He looked back at her in time to see her rubbing her chest. She was feeling everything, hurting for him, and probably the injured men as well. And here he was, wallowing in his bad mood. He inwardly groaned at himself for being such a bastard.
He sighed and reached out for her. She eagerly went to him and put her arms around his waist. He held her close, calming himself down, using her divine aura of comfort to help. She rested her cheek against his chest as he stroked her hair. When he was finished with his cigarette, he flicked it into the street and she tipped her head back to offer him her lips, which he took without hesitation.
His kiss was harder than usual, even a bit rough, though she didn’t complain. She returned it, but caressed his cheek gently, making him relax more and, after a few moments, his kiss softened.
When he pulled back, he sighed again. She gave him a warm, reassuring smile before she linked an arm through his and they started walking out of the temple district.
He wanted to head to the inn, to relieve some of his tension with sex, but he knew he would hurt her if he did that now. He couldn’t control himself enough, not when he was like this. So he lit another cigarette and agreed to go with her to buy a new dress. At least it would keep him occupied enough to stay out of trouble.
