Semper: A Dark Cult Romance (Stygian Isles Book 2), page 27
Alexander.
My Alexander.
My cousin.
"When did you find me?" The words slipped out of my mouth before I even had a chance to think, my mind spinning too fast to catch up. When did they find me? How long had they been watching me, knowing who I was, waiting?
Beatrice's gaze softened, though there was no hesitation in her answer. "I found you when you were fifteen." Her voice was calm, a matter of fact as if she were recounting something routine. "Alexander was told about you when you were seventeen."
I quickly did the mental math, trying to make sense of it. That would’ve made him... "Twenty-seven, twenty-eight?" I said, my voice small, barely audible. The realization sank in—he hadn’t known about me for as long as I thought he did, which meant he moved quicker than I could have ever imagined bringing me home.
Beatrice nodded, confirming my thoughts. Esther chimed in, her voice soft, almost admiring. "He accepted you right away."
Adelita’s voice followed, the first trace of vulnerability slipping into her tone. "He rearranged everything for you," she said, as if the words held more meaning than I could grasp.
Then her gaze softened further, a glimmer of something deeper flashing in her eyes. "He has made me proud many times over the years... but I admit, when I learned you'd be brought back here, Lolita, I was terrified." Her voice wavered, but only slightly, as if revealing this truth pained her more than she let on. "I thought you deserved the life you'd built for yourself. I know what it’s like to have that snatched away."
She paused, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart ache. "I... panicked," she confessed, her voice lower, softer. "I shouldn’t have. I can see now—you belong here. The Isle chose you, just like it chose my son. And I couldn’t be prouder of the man he’s become."
There was a long silence after that, the weight of her words pressing down on me. The Isle chose you.
Adelita’s eyes darkened, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But it’s Diabolus that worried me."
The shift in the room was palpable, the name ringing with a weight that couldn’t be ignored. She was talking about her own son—the role he had taken, the power he wielded as Diabolus.
I had always known that the title came with a darkness but hearing her speak of it like this made it feel all the more real. I sat there, the walls of the parlor closing in around me as I tried to process everything. My family. My past. Alexander. Diabolus. The twisted web I was caught in was tightening around me, and there was no way to untangle myself from it.
“This is, um... a lot,” I said, my voice shaky despite my best efforts to keep it steady. I felt like I was swimming in information, and the weight of everything they'd just told me was pulling me under.
Beatrice smiled gently, as if she’d expected this reaction. “Yeah, I imagine it is. But you’ve only proven you were the Isle’s choice by handling everything the way you have and accepting our faith, even the darkest parts of it.”
I wouldn’t necessarily say that I had accepted it, not really.
I wasn’t going to point that out. Instead, I took a small sip of water, putting the glass down carefully before the emotions that were tangled inside me could slip through. Everything felt so tightly wound within me that it physically hurt, a pressure building in my chest, but I couldn’t let it show. Not now.
“Is there a bathroom I can use?” I asked, my voice tight.
Esther immediately stood; her smile warm but concerned. “Of course. Come with me.”
I followed her out of the room, my feet feeling heavy with each step.
The air in the hallway felt thicker, quieter than the tension I’d left behind. The dark wood and rich decor felt suffocating as we walked in silence down the hall, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that my entire world had just been turned upside down.
Esther slowed to a stop just outside a door. “It’s right here,” she said softly, gesturing toward the bathroom.
“Thanks,” I muttered, moving toward the door. I needed a minute to breathe, to think, to feel something other than the numbness spreading through me.
But before I could enter, Esther’s hand gently rested on my arm, stopping me. Her touch was firm, but there was an unexpected warmth in it.
“Hey,” she said quietly, her voice grounding. “I know this is a lot.” She looked at me, her eyes filled with understanding, as though she knew exactly how overwhelmed I felt. “But my aunt was right, and I’ve said it before. You’ve already proven you’re stronger than you think. You’re here now, and you belong here.” She gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “You’ve survived so much already, Lolita.” Her voice was steady, as if she believed every word she said, and that was why it was so hard for me not to believe her too. I looked at her, trying to form words, trying to make sense of everything. “Blood matters here,” Esther continued, her eyes locking onto mine. “Legacy matters. And you’ve always been part of this, even if you didn’t know it.”
I didn’t know how to respond. Legacy. Blood. They kept talking about it as if it were a gift when even as I came to accept that I’d never leave this Isle, it felt like a slowly restricting chain.
Esther’s voice softened as she shifted, sensing the real fear swirling inside me. “Look,” she said gently, “I know you’re scared. I know the idea of Alexander being Diabolus is… a lot. I know he’s a lot. It’s something even our mother fears. He may carry the weight of the Isle, but he’s chosen you, Lolita. You’re meant to be his balance.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected, cutting through the chaos in my mind. Alexander had chosen me. Despite everything, the darkness, the secrets—he had chosen me, just as I had been pulled toward him. I looked down, swallowing the lump in my throat. “And what if I can’t be his balance?” I asked quietly.
Esther gave me a soft, reassuring smile, her hand still on my arm. “You already are.” She stepped back. “I’ll come check on you if you’re not back in a few minutes, alright?”
I nodded and slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind me with a quiet click. The room was silent, but the pressure in my chest felt deafening. I turned the sink on, letting the sound of rushing water fill the space. My hands gripped the cool porcelain basin tightly, my knuckles turning white.
The room seemed to tilt for a moment, everything spinning out of control. I could feel the weight of my reflection behind me, like it was watching, waiting, judging.
I couldn’t face it.
I couldn’t face her.
With a sharp breath, I turned away from the mirror, refusing to look at myself, my pulse racing in my ears. My reflection wouldn’t just show my face—it would show everything I was struggling to keep inside. The questions, the confusion, the growing connection to a place and a man I had just barely began to understand. I took a shaky breath, leaning back against the cool bathroom wall, the sound of the running water fading into the background.
My mind was racing, but the realization of what I’d just learned sat heavy in my chest. Alexander and I— We were family. Not strangers, not lovers who just happened to find each other.
It wasn’t a complete shock. Alexander had alluded to it more than once. I’d tried to find the connection. I just hadn’t known how deep the connection went. So many times, he told me we were bound by something more than his obsession, something that had always tied me to the Isle. I couldn’t deny that I knew it would be something like this. Now, the truth felt strange, but not as horrifying as I thought it would be. Maybe it was because I had already accepted so much about him—his darkness, his ruthlessness, his role as Diabolus.
The family aspect was just another piece of the puzzle, another facet of the twisted world I had been pulled into. The fact that we shared blood made this all feel inevitable, like we had been destined for this from the start. I let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through my hair. I should’ve been disgusted or scared. Instead, I felt conflicted. Why hadn’t he just told me? He had kept this from me, knowing full well what it would mean.
It wasn’t just the Isle that had claimed me; it was my blood, my family. My thoughts circled back to everything that had happened between us, how deeply he had intwined himself into my life, my mind, my heart. I gripped the sink again, squeezing my eyes shut. What did this mean for us now? Did it mean anything at all in the grand scheme of things?
No matter how much I wrestled with this revelation, it didn’t change the way I felt about him. There’d been something pulling us together from the very beginning, transcending the boundaries of right and wrong. Just as my thoughts spiraled deeper into the unsettling truth about Alexander and me, something caught my eye—a small piece of paper slipping beneath the door. I froze, staring at it, my mind immediately wondering Adelita?
No. Adelita wouldn’t risk something like this, not now. She may have warned me long ago, but it was clear she loved her son—Alexander. She wouldn’t betray him again.
Heart pounding, I snatched the paper up, my fingers trembling slightly as I unfolded it. The handwriting was unfamiliar, and the message left me reeling.
I know how to help you.
1 week at Elmsworth Market. Row T4.
Confusion washed over me, my mind racing. Who wrote this? My pulse quickened, suspicion creeping in. This was a dangerous game, and I had no idea who had just pulled me into it. Without wasting another second, I tossed the paper into the toilet and flushed, watching as it swirled away, gone before anyone could trace it back to me. I couldn’t afford to hold on to it, not in this house.
I turned back to the sink, splashing cool water on my face, the chill seeping into my skin as I forced myself to breathe. One deep breath in, then another. My reflection blurred in the mirror, but I kept my eyes trained on the water, the sound grounding me in the moment.
I turned the sink off and patted my face dry, knowing I couldn’t hide out in the bathroom, no matter how luxurious it was. My heart was still racing, the message on the note haunting me, but I couldn’t let it show. I took one more deep breath, bracing myself, and pulled the door open. I took one last breath, trying to collect myself, and opened the door. I nearly jumped when I saw Esther leaning against the wall. Her expression was calm, though something about the way she was waiting for me stirred up a new kind of tension inside me.
"Have you been there the whole time?" I asked, trying to sound casual, but my voice came out more uncertain than I’d meant.
Esther laughed softly, shaking her head. "No, I was about to knock."
"Oh." I stepped out, feeling the unspoken heaviness between us.
She moved forward and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug.
It wasn’t unusual for her to be affectionate, but this... this was different. There was a desperation in the way she clung to me that caught me off guard.
"Don’t leave us, Lo," she murmured, her voice so low it was a whisper. "Don’t leave me."
I froze, the meaning of her words sinking in. She knew. Esther had seen whoever left the note, but she wasn’t saying anything. Her grip on me tightened for just a moment, and I realized she was begging me to stay—not just with the family, but with her. She pulled back, her smile returning as if nothing had happened. “Come on, it’s time for dessert.”
I nodded, following her down the hall, my mind still racing. We entered a cozy dining room, where everyone else had already gathered. Emilio sat at the far end of the table, talking animatedly with Bishop, a glass of wine in his hand.
The mood was lighter than I’d expected, too light considering the weight of what I’d just learned. As soon as I stepped into the room, I felt Alexander’s eyes on me. His gaze was always intense, but now, knowing what I did, it felt like a constant reminder of the ties that bound us—ties I hadn’t fully understood until tonight. He smiled when he saw me, but it wasn’t the kind of smile that eased tension. It was the kind that pulled you in, made you forget everything except him.
In the center of the table was a massive double chocolate cake, decadent and rich, the scent filling the air. Draven leaned back in his chair, his arm casually draped around Adelita, a proud grin on his face. “Best cakes on the Isle,” he boasted, looking at his wife with open admiration.
She smiled at him affectionately, her eyes softening as she met his gaze. It was a side of her I hadn’t seen yet—more vulnerable.
The woman who had once warned me about her son now seemed perfectly at ease in her role as wife and mother. It was a strange contrast, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Alexander approached me with that same unwavering focus, his presence commanding the room without even trying. He moved closer, his hand finding its way to the small of my back, guiding me toward the table with that same possessive touch I had grown used to.
His fingers lingered, warm against my skin, and I couldn’t help but feel the slight shift in our dynamic now that I knew the truth. Family. It felt twisted and wrong, yet the connection between us hadn’t lessened. If anything, it had only deepened. He pulled out a chair for me, his eyes never leaving mine as I sat down. Emilio, seated across from us, raised his glass in a mock toast. “Took you long enough,” he teased, his easy grin lighting up the room.
“I had to freshen up,” I replied, forcing a small smile, though my mind was still buzzing. Emilio and Alexander exchanged a look—one I couldn’t quite decipher—before Alexander took his seat beside me. He served us both a slice of cake, as was our habit, sliding the plate between us as if we were the only two in the room.
I glanced around the table, noticing the casual way they all interacted, like this was just another family gathering. Bishop was cracking a joke with Esther, who rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t suppress a grin. Draven and Adelita whispered quietly to each other, lost in their own world.
The conversation ebbed and flowed around me, and for the first time in a while, I didn’t feel like an outsider. Alexander’s arm rested on the back of my chair, his thumb brushing the edge of my shoulder in gentle, possessive strokes.
The cake was delicious, rich, and sweet, but it was hard to focus on anything other than the man beside me, and the secrets that now bound us tighter than ever before. I found myself laughing along with Bishop and Emilio, even as my mind continued to swirl with everything I had just learned. It was unsettling how normal it all felt—how easily I was slipping into this role, sharing a meal, talking with them as if nothing had changed. As if I wasn’t now aware of the twisted legacy, I was a part of.
Alexander leaned in; his breath warm against my ear. “You’re doing well,” he murmured, his voice low, meant only for me. I turned my head to meet his gaze, and there it was again—that magnetic pull that refused to let me go. Even though my world had been upended, even though everything about us should have felt wrong, sitting here, sharing a plate with him, surrounded by his—our—family, it somehow felt right.
We didn’t head back to the estate that night. At some point, as the hours grew late and the house quieted, Alexander took my hand and led me upstairs. Esther had already disappeared to bed, and the rest of the family had scattered, leaving the house cloaked in an intimate stillness.
"This was my room," he said as we reached a large, intricately carved door at the end of the hall. His voice, deep and low, sent a shiver down my spine. He opened the door, and I stepped inside, momentarily speechless. The room was breathtaking. Dark, elegant, and undeniably gothic, it looked like something pulled straight out of a dream.
Tall, arched windows framed by heavy drapes allowed the moonlight to spill in, casting soft shadows on the floor. The furniture was all dark wood and rich textures, every piece exuding an old-world luxury that made the space feel grand and intimate all at once.
There were rose petals.
They were everywhere, scattered across the bed, the floor, and even some on the windowsill. Their deep red stood out in stark contrast to the black linens and dark furnishings. Candles flickered in every corner, their flames casting a warm, golden glow across the room, filling the space with a sense of intimacy that wrapped around me like a second skin. It was beautiful. I stood there taking it all in, knowing that he had set it up this way for me.
Me.
I moved further into the room, my fingers trailing lightly over the carved wood of a nearby dresser.
As I took it all in, I could feel his eyes on me, watching my every move. When I turned to face him, his gaze was unwavering, the weight of it sending a pulse of warmth through me.
“What are you thinking, delicium meum?” he asked, his voice a low, velvet murmur. The words slid over me, wrapping around me like a possessive embrace.
I shook my head, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. Everything that had happened tonight, the truths I’d learned, the reality of the life I was being pulled into. It was all overwhelming. But right now, in this room, with him standing there, none of that seemed to matter. I took a slow breath, finally meeting his gaze. “I’m thinking... you know exactly what you’re doing.”
He grinned, that devilish smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I may have an ulterior motive beyond making you feel cherished," he said, his voice dripping with dark amusement.
I swallowed, my pulse quickening at the way he looked at me, so sure of himself, so sure of us. I almost told him he didn’t need to do all of this, that he already made me feel cherished without grand gestures like this. The truth of it hit me before I even finished the thought—he had a way of making me feel like I was the only person in the world when we were together, as twisted as everything else might be.
Then something else crept into my mind—his past. The fact that he had been married twice. I had known this for a while, and it had never really bothered me before. Standing there in the room he once called his own, surrounded by the effort he had put into making this night special, the thought of it weighed heavier than I expected. Had he done this before? Created this kind of intimacy with them too? And if so, how did that make me any different?
