Chapter 278: Chapter 278 Hypocrite
Her eyes flickered up to mine before darting away again, as if ashamed to speak.
I kept running my fingers through her hair, untangling the knots as she spoke. Her voice was small but each word felt heavy, like she’d been holding them in for years.
"Then they came one night," she continued, her voice shaking. "Destroying my family of three... They called themselves the defectors. They said girls like me were ’chosen to be remade.’" Her hands clenched, her nails digging into her palms. "But they didn’t remake us to become better. Rather they broke us and drowned us in their rituals until we couldn’t remember who we were. They stripped away everything... and filled us with rot."
Her words spilled like pieces of a memory she’d been forced to bury. I paused, cloth still in my hand, the ache in my chest heavier with every word she spoke.
"They told us we’d be stronger this way. That we’d be free." She let out a bitter laugh, quiet and raw. "But all I felt was emptiness like my heart was being eaten from the inside."
Her voice cracked, and she hugged her knees tighter. "The others didn’t survive it. Their bodies broke... or their minds did. I tried to hold on. I thought if I kept one memory safe, maybe I wouldn’t lose myself completely." Her lips trembled, and she whispered, "I remembered the rosemary in my mother’s hair. That’s all I had left... and you smell like rosemary."
"I smell like rosemary?" My brows twitched slightly.
She raised her head nodding.
’But I don’t use rosemary... why would I smell like it?’
I decided not to ask too many questions. "I’m sorry to hear about your family... no one would be able to hurt you again."
"Thank you." She muttered under her breath.
A wave of pain shot through me, and my fingers clenched tightly around the bathtub. My breath became heavy yet shallow.
"I’ll leave you now to shower fully, you already know how it works." I patted her shoulder.
She nodded her head. "Yes, master." She replied.
"Master?" I frowned.
"I’m your servant now, so it is only right to call you master, and besides... your other servant calls you master too." Her chocolate brown eyes stared with curiosity.
"Ahem." I cleared my throat. "Don’t call me master." The words escaped my lips before I knew it.
"Why?"
I blinked, staring at the wall. ’Why? Because I want only Damon to call me master. It feels weird to hear it from someone else’s mouth.’
I bit my inner cheek. "Because you are special."
Crystal blinked at me, confusion flickering in her brown eyes, but she didn’t push it. She only lowered her head again, letting the curtain of wet black hair hide her face.
I stood, my knees popping slightly. "Finish your bath. There are towels over there," I said, pointing at the hangers. "When you’re done, stay here, I’ll bring you some clean clothes."
She nodded without looking up. "Yes..."
"Miss Aeris." I completed.
I pressed my lips together, turning away before she could see whatever was flickering across my own face. My footsteps echoed softly as I stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
I walked back into the bedroom, and my steps faltered when I saw him. Damon was standing by the window, his hands clasped loosely behind him. The fading sunlight cut across his profile, sharp enough to make him look like a statue.
His head turned slightly as soon as I stepped inside. He sniffed the air, and his nose wrinkled. "You smell like a corpse," he said bluntly, his eyes landing on me.
I rolled my eyes, shutting the door behind me. "Good for you."
His brow furrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "You’re letting the witch stay in our room? Aren’t you afraid I’ll rip her throat out in a matter of seconds?" His voice lowered dangerously.
I walked past him toward the bed, unbothered by his stare. "Why would you do that? Are you an animal?" I said, pulling the tie from my hair and shaking it out. "By the way her name is Crystal, she will be your fellow servant."
He turned fully now, his hands sliding from behind his back. "Aeris..."
"It is Master, don’t make me correct you again," I interjected.
He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "You don’t understand... Master. The defectors... they’re not like the witches you’ve met. They don’t change easily, and their corruption doesn’t just disappear from their blood because you’ve washed them in a tub. They’re dangerous, even when they look innocent."
I crossed my arms, tilting my head slightly. "And you think I don’t know?" My voice came out softer than I expected. "I know what she is, Damon. I know what she’s been through."
For a heartbeat, he didn’t speak. Then he took a step closer, his eyes searching mine. "You’re putting yourself at risk. And not only yourself, you are risking the whole pack too."
"The pack?" I shot back, my voice hardening. "So that is all you care about?"
His lips parted, but no words came out. The sunset lit his face from one side, making his eyes darker. "I’m just looking out for you, the witches are not to be trusted. What if this is their plan... they should be burned on a stake." He said finally, his voice rough, almost a growl.
"Really?" My gaze darkened. "Then Fae should be beheaded? Boiled or burnt on a stick?" My voice rumbled like thunder. My eyes turned to a dark shade of purple.
"I’m not referring to Fae, Master." He said with gritted teeth. He sighed, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "The Fae are not as greedy and corrupted as the witches, I believe the Fae deserve a second chance... but the witches... they’ll never change."
I chuckled bitterly. And here I was thinking that he no longer had prejudice against the Fae and the Witches. What a wishful thinking.
"You are the biggest hypocrite I’ve ever seen." I spat out in disappointment.