Vow of Hell by Clara Elroy

Ariadne

Iknew when I wasn’t welcome anymore. Every bone in my body protested as I wheeled a small suitcase with my essentials behind me, promising to have someone else pick up the rest of my stuff. I was cutting my stay at Saint’s place short by a month. I didn’t want to bother him with my presence when he had to deal with his injured father, and judging by his curt texts, I wasn’t his favorite person at the moment.

It stung like a bitch. Not to be needed, wanted, or loved back. To have a self-fulfilled prophecy hang over your head, laughing at you like you were the joke of the century while having a panic attack on your fake husband's kitchen floor, minutes after he turned his back on you.

My body still shook with the remnants of the day's lows on the drive back to my apartment, a conflict arising whenever a part of me cussed him out for leaving me, for not loving me back. Saint didn’t owe me anything, least of all his heart, considering all that I'd done.

My vision blurred behind tears and the glare of the sun on the ocean as I let myself inside my waterfront apartment. There was an underlying musk in the air, carrying the knowledge of a space locked away for a long time. Desperation clung to my every step the day I moved out, but now that I was back, there was no serenity in my heart at being surrounded by my things again.

Where there were marble floors, I craved to replace them with wood. The elevated ceiling and open floor plan gave me anxiety, and the view of the beach had me missing the trees that so often lulled me to sleep in Saint’s arms with the whispers of the wind shifting between their branches.

Once the first tears escaped, there were plenty more to follow, flowing down my cheeks like a broken dam looking for a way out. I let my knees crack on the ground, not even making it to a couch. I had no one to talk to, nowhere to turn, and the ball in my throat grew until I had to take heaving breaths to keep up with the despair that clawed at my chest.

Love was an addiction. All the signs pointed in that direction. Tremors ravaged my body as I curled up in a ball, depression waiting to snatch me in the dark when I closed my eyes, not even finding solace in letting my mind sleep. There was no rest for the wicked and heartbroken.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine, though, for putting myself in this position. I lied, trusted the wrong people, and put others at risk because I was selfish. I wanted my cake, and I was stupid enough to take multiple bites too, not paying attention to the effects the overload of sweetness would have on my system later on.

Nothing good ever lasted. Every happy moment was brief to teach us to enjoy life but not take what we had for granted.

I crawled on my hands and knees to get to the bathroom, not trusting myself to walk without splitting my head open in the process. The furniture was spinning because of the lack of oxygen in my lungs. The sobs that bubbled up my throat were too frequent, allowing for little air to travel past my windpipe, even with my mouth open.

Managing to climb in the shower, still fully clothed, I twisted the tap open, shivering when frigid water touched my heated skin like a cooling caress.

How did you salvage what was shattered?

How did you put a million tiny pieces back together?

You can’t, not without getting your hands bloody and your knees red, agonizing over every little section. Rebuilding doesn’t happen overnight. It’s like a mosaic, requiring the utmost attention and meticulous work.

My skin turned feverish, the wet fabric suffocating me, and slowly I worked it off my body, letting it smack on the ground, outside the curtain with a plop. I went through the motions of a shower, wanting to get rid of Harry’s ghost touch around my neck, the memory of his eyes glowering over me like he owned me because I made the terrible mistake of allowing him into my life. I scrubbed until I was red and raw, doing more harm for my injuries than good, but with each scrape of nails down my neck, chest, and arms, I regained a piece of my dignity, rubbing off the numbness that soaked my pores to protect me from the humiliation of the past catching up with the present.

My stomach growled for lunch when I slipped into my bed after being done. I had no power to dry my hair let alone cook, and I was all out of supplies. Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I was glad Eliana’s name was higher on the alphabetical list than Saint’s.

I didn’t trust myself with such easy access to his cellphone number.

Promising to mope some more later, I called Eliana, missing the opportunity to talk and apologize to her properly amidst all the chaos going down at Bella’s. I had a lot to be sorry for, and one of the worst was putting her in danger. The thought of something bad happening to her baby because of me absolutely destroyed me with guilt.

“Hello?” She picked up on the second ring, and I flopped on my back, inspecting a black dot on the ceiling as I worked up the courage to speak.

“Eliana, hi,” I breathed, expecting her to either shut the phone on my face or cuss me out and then shut the phone on my face.

“Ari.” I heard a door opening and closing on her end and her sighing as if she sat down. “Are you okay?”

A hybrid mix of a sigh and a sob burst out of me. “You’re asking me? God, girl, you’re an angel.”

She snickered. “I’ve been told I look like one once or twice.”

She certainly did yesterday when she burst out of the stall some minutes after Harry appeared and started threatening me by pointing a gun at my head. If it wasn’t for Eliana hitting him with the bathroom door, I could’ve been dead now. The safety was pulled, and when the pistol fell on the floor, it went off. Thank God it didn’t hit anyone. Harry knocked Eliana down, however, he didn’t get far before I jumped him, and his attention was back on me.

“Are you okay? I feel terrible after what you went through tonight. I really hope your pregnancy wasn’t affected in any way.”

“Oh, it was just a little shove. My ass is sore, and Leo is being annoying hovering over my head, otherwise, I’m fine as can be.”

My heart warmed despite shivering, wrapped in only a towel. I turned on my side, curling like a ball and urging some of that heat to travel to the rest of my limbs.

“You guys are adorable.” My voice came out hoarse, emotion tightening around my throat like a noose.

“Aria, are you crying?”

“No,” I said in half a sob, biting down on my lip to reign it in, but it was useless. I sounded like a whale separated by her calves, and the worst thing was, I couldn’t stop.

“Honey, what happened?” Eliana asked, concerned.

Was it wise to burden a new friend with your problems? No.

Was I going to do it anyway? Yes.

I needed to talk, and since Irena was out of the question, dad was… well, dad, and mom would take the opportunity and give me the lecture of my life, if she found out what happened, Eliana would do.

“Let’s just say, Saint didn’t show half the interest in how I’m doing. And I guess I deserve it, I’m not blaming him for anything, but it still hurts knowing how insignificant I am in the grand scheme of things.” Tears clung to my lower lashes, and my screen blurred.

“Insigni—what?” Eli released a sharp exhale. “Aria, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Saint act the way he does around you with anyone else.”

“How do you mean?”

“Like the world revolves around you, girl. I could probably count the number of times he looks away from you in one hand when you’re in the same room, and he always has the biggest smile on his face when you’re talking. This is the most realistic display of emotions I’ve ever seen from Saint. There is little that can affect that man, but whenever you’re around, I swear everyone in the room can tell that he’ll take them down in flames if they hurt you.”

I knew what she meant. Saint was as aloof as they came, you probably had to do something extremely cruel to break down his defenses. Eliana was implying that I was his kryptonite, but I didn’t see it, not when he ran away after I told him I loved him. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye.

“I don’t think that’s the case—”

She spoke over me. “Of course, you don’t. It’s hard to believe we’re worthy of affection, that another person can see past the flaws we magnify in our minds and love us regardless, but trust me Aria, give him some time and you’ll see, you’ll regret wishing for the same level of clinginess.”

I munched on my lower lip, my head pounding after all the crying I’d done. A heavy weight pressed against my chest, and even though I knew it was moot, I hoped Eliana was correct in her assessment.

* * *

Saint

Nyx and Erebus greeted me at the door when I came home. That should’ve been my first warning. They usually didn't stray far from Ari’s side. She was more generous than I was with treats.

I didn’t dare look toward her wing as I made my way to the bedroom, and despite the temptation lighting up my brain with thoughts of seeing her, I was out like a light when my head hit the pillow. The scent of her perfume clinging on my sheets made it easier for me to flush away the last twenty-four hours from my memory in order to sleep without nightmares.

After waking up with a death grip around the comforter, smothering my face on the cotton-like it was Ari’s neck, I caught up on some work, seeing as I’d dropped off the face of the earth today, exercised, even finished reading a book I’d started a few weeks ago. All in my room.

As if I’d contract the plague by going outside.

I’d rather it be the fucking plague than what I had. A severe case of Ariadnetitis, similar to Huntington's Disease, in which it slowly deteriorated my physical and mental abilities until I rewired my life to be fine-tuned to Ariadne’s. I made adjustments around her schedule, planned my days off from work to match her, and made plans according to what we would enjoy together.

My nerve cells were fried, and it took me staying away from her for a couple of hours to understand that I was living in marital bliss, and any change to my schedule threw me off the loop.

When the clock struck midnight, and I had enough of living off the packet of Haribos Aria had forgotten on my desk, I begrudgingly made my way to the living room, cursing my resolve for being so feeble.

She’d lied to me, but I hadn’t been the most open husband either. There had been countless times where I wanted to open up about my father, my fucked up family life, and out of fear of judgment, I shut my mouth. Would she think I was a monster for what I did?

I didn’t know.

Frankly, I didn’t care if she did. She was stuck with me.

Every night we counted galaxies and forgot boundaries, she chipped away at my soul with an ice pick, and I had a persistent Ari-sized hole I needed to fill. We were of the same breed, her and I. There was no point in fighting against my attraction. She’d consumed me completely.

I was fucking whipped and blowing her off when she told me she loved me was one of the stupidest things I’d done in my life.

And I’d done a ton of shit I wasn’t proud of.

The house was eerily quiet, and my parched throat watered as I patted barefoot across the sky bridge, but before I could reach her room, the doorbell rang. I considered ignoring it, but it did so again three more times.

Who the fuck was it so late at night anyway?

They kept going, and I pulled the door open with more force than necessary, a curse on the tip of my tongue that I audibly swallowed down when I saw who it was.

“Irena? Kill?” My brows pulled together as I stared at my sister-in-law and my brother.

“Finally!” Kill growled, blowing past me.

An equally annoyed Irena followed in his footsteps, and they left me standing in front of an empty doorway.

“Make yourselves right at home, why don’t you?” I muttered, half tempted to kick them both out so I could continue with my original plan, which included kissing my way through every inch of my wife’s body until the advantages of keeping my flawed ass, outweighed the disadvantages.

“My God, your wife is infuriating. Why does she even have a phone if she never bothers to check it?” Irena whined, crossing arms when I turned to face them.

Her eyes dropped to my chest, cheeks pinkening, and I remembered I had no shirt on. Oh well, she'd have to deal.

“What are you guys doing here? Did you come together?”

“Dad was being prissier than usual, so I came to take advantage of your guest bedroom and the jacuzzi in your bathroom.” Killian's gaze sliced to Irena, who gave an uppity huff when meeting his eyes. “Irena shared my idea apparently, and almost crashed my car on her drive here.”

“Oh, come on, I barely nicked it.” She slammed her foot on the ground, and it seemed like they had this conversation several times already. “And I was concerned for my sister, I’ve been calling her all day, and she hasn’t answered once. Where is she?”

"Did it cross your mind that maybe they were busy?" My brother's face brightened with a smirk I’d taught him to use.

"The whole day? Doing what?" Ina bit the bullet.

“She’s in her room probably. I was just heading there now.” I cut in before Killian took it upon himself to educate my sister in law, on fun activities that lasted all day long.

“Her room? You guys have separate rooms?”

“She uses it to sew and design and all that.” Technically, I wasn't lying. We spent more time in my bedroom. Scratching my chest, I started up the stairs, trusting they'd come after me. “We had a fight, so she’s most likely holed up in there.”

“A fight? About what?” Irena echoed behind me.

My jaw locked, and my strides became longer. Why wouldn't she answer Irena? Shit, was she more seriously injured than I thought? The air shifted against my skin like sandpaper as I blew down the hall. Their voices became thinner and gait heavier to keep up with me.

“Calm down, Nancy Drew. Nosey much?” Killian snorted.

“I can be bitey too. Want to try me, Astor?”

“I might just take you up on it, Fleur.” His voice held an edge I didn't like and I gave him a warning look, stopping in front of Ari’s room.

“He won’t be taking you up on anything.” A burn radiated through my chest when I knocked on Ari’s door and didn't hear anything in response. “Ari?” I asked, but again nothing.

I took in a deep drag of oxygen, pushing the door open. That familiar throb right behind my breastbone missed me because her gaze wasn't there to bruise me with a mere look. The space was vacant, but you could still see her influence in the room. Her mannequin was wrapped with some sparkly fabric, scissors, and pins scattered all over her workspace. Still, there was only emptiness.

“Do you have any other rooms where she might be holed up after your fight?” Killian inserted himself when he saw that Aria wasn't there.

Frustration danced along with my nerves, and I focused on Irena. “Fuck, she hasn’t answered you all day?”

Her hands fidgeted as she nodded, glancing inside. “Yeah. At first, it rang, but after a while, the line beeped as if her phone ran out of battery or was closed or something.”

A bad inkling settled over my bones like a rush that ate me from the inside out. I didn’t wait to hear anything more. I rushed forward, ready to tear my whole house apart, looking for her.

“We’re splitting up,” I commented. “Ina, you check upstairs, I’ll take the main floor, and Kill, go take a look at the garage and see if her car is still there.”

The next few moments were pure unadulterated torture as I tore down every door at my home, only to find empty space on the other side. No sweet laughter, no haughty retorts—nothing but vacancy.

As if someone had handcrafted my personal nightmare, we all wore similar expressions of dread when we met again. Nowhere. Ariadne was nowhere near me, and all this time, I hid in my room like a pussy, thinking she was here.

I let my wife slip through my fingers, but I'd spend this night—fuck, every goddamn night—awake as well so long as I found her.