MY DARLING DAREDEVIL

Down memory lane

“s**t,”

“He is a Velaryon,” Aziza’s thoughts whispered at the same time her instincts kicked in. Without thinking, she closed her hand into a fist and punched into his right ribs. It sent him crashing back to the dinner. The air, the power, the magic and the feel of the supernatural present that came with him disappeared into nothing and so did the black abyss in his eyes.

Damon groaned in pain and pulled a seat towards himself so he could sit. He was back to his normal self and his headache had disappeared like it was never there, but his ribs had received the impact of someone’s deadly instinct and it hurt more than he expected.

“Did you have to do that?” he groaned and she scoffed.

“You attacked me….” She retorted and his eyes went wide. He did not understand how and what had taken over him. But she ignored that look, she was not about to baby sit him into understanding what he did and turned to the guards.

“Get him a glass of water.” She ordered. One of them took it upon himself to carry out the task and handed the glass of water to his boss. Damon gulped it in one goal and sighed before he dropped the cup. She moved closer to him and sat down, still unable to wrap her head around what had happened. She had known who he was from the first day she came to the human world, she had felt him and had searched till she found him. But she never knew that he was a Velaryon, a true demon.

True demons no longer existed, no one had those eyes that looked like the dark abyss of hell. They had been too powerful, too uncontrollable and had been a threat to the entire realm. Driven by fear, slowly her people, their people wiped them out till the very last one disappeared.

“How are you a Velaryon?” she mumbled. Knowing that the last heir had been thought dead years ago. And even his parents were not Velaryon. Or were they?

“Pardon?” Damon asked and she turned to him.

“You are not just a demon, you are not just a prince. You are from the descendants of true demons. The only true and true leaders of our world.” She almost shrieked. But a frown appeared on his face and slowly, his headache returned.

“What are you saying?” he turned to her. She groaned, remembering that he was so clueless.

“You are a prince, that’s why I’m protecting you, stupid,” she sat down beside him.

“Prince of what? What are you saying?” he asked with confusion and almost immediately, something hard struck his head and he groaned. She sighed heavily, understanding that his headache was back and not ready to sympathize with him.

“I will leave you then,” she simply said and zoomed off.

Finding herself in her most favorite spot, a tall building where the world looked like it was right under her feet, just like so many other people would be, she sat at the edge of it with one of her knees folded so her hand could rest on it and the other dangling off the edge of the building. Her ever-keen sight focused on one man, Damon. He was taking the same drugs that she had thrown away and almost gotten killed for.

“How many of those does he have?” her thoughts nagged.

But that was not the only problem. She was still confused as to how he was a Velaryon. He was not supposed to exist anymore, but there he was, clueless and stupid. The second problem on her book was how to let him see and know what was going on. He had to know that he was a prince, and not just that, he had to see the truth. Humans existed just as werewolves, witches, demons and vampires and he was supposed to rule them alongside her. No, she did not want to be queen, far be it from her that she would be his queen. She wanted to be something better and with his help, she would ascertain that goal. It had taken a long time to get there, it had taken a longer time to see some kind of proof that he had possessed magic. But the night had favored her, she had seen something better than magic.

The sun was about to set when Aziza decided that it was time to return home. No harm was to come to Damon for a while, she had seen and sensed it. Maybe, his foes had finally gotten the message that she had sent and had backed away for the mean time. But with the morning sun setting in, came a totally different dilemma. Being Ivy.

Aziza zoomed back to her apartment and stopped at an alley close by. She looked around the neighborhood to be sure that no one saw her. She was the red hair people were looking for after all and had to be careful. But when she saw that peaking from place to place was not enough, she zoomed into her apartment and straight for her room. Papers and other light things flew into the air with the wave, energy and heavy wind she brought with it. Then she quickly turned to her wardrobe where her tones of wigs were locked away. She took the blonde she wore the previous day and wore it right in time.

“Hey,” Maddie stormed into her room and she turned to her. Her eyes were red and sulk inside her socket like she had been having a blast with drinks and drugs all night and her hair was in a mess, like she had the roughest s*x that she could ever have. But Aziza did not miss the angry look in her face and she could guess why.

“You dare break into my house and my room to steal?” she yelled. Aziza’s lips stretched into a smile, then she turned to her wardrobe to pick a dress for the day like she had not been spoken to.

“I’m talking to you, you dimwit,” she cursed and the red hair paused. For a moment there, she thought of teaching her a lesson, but once again decided against it. She went back to searching for a dress and found a very simply flair purple gown. She took it out of the wardrobe and turned to Maddie, her presence was irritating her and she was not sure she could bare the stench of her around her anymore.

“I never broke in,” she lied.

“And it’s our house, Maddie,” she added with a very sly smile.

“I had thought that you had lost the key and had broken in yourself but since that was not the case, then it must be the petty thieves around.” She feigned the look of concern on her face while making her voice sound the sweetest and softest.

“Should we call the cops?” she added. Maddie stared at her, confused at what to do and what to think. She could have sworn that Ivy had been the one to break in but seeing her now made her feel differently.

“Calling the cops would actually be a good idea,” she mumbled and the smile Ivy had on her face disappeared instantly. Cops were the last people she needed to see, she had a long list of reasons why she could not see them. Maybe, she should not have suggested that, she never thought that she would take it seriously.

“Okay then,” she forced out, in other to not look suspicious. If worst came to actual worst, she could just run away. She was a super human after all.

“Okay,” Maddie turned back to her. She stared at her with suspicion but left anyway.

Aziza went back to preparing for the day and this time she was determined to not get to work late. She brushed her teeth, had her shower then she came out with a towel wrapped around her chest. She turned to the mirror in her room and stared at herself from her hair to her feet. Then she allowed the towel fall to the ground.

The sight of her skin made her cringe with disgust and irritation. The long scar that ran from her chest, down to the side of her rips still had not healed up. It was a hideous thing that tainted her. They were now almost like purple hideous line on her, but what made her cringe the most was the one on her back. She turned her back to the mirror slowly, till she caught the reflection of the scar in the mirror. Four long lines that ran from her right shoulders to somewhere between her waist was visible. she slowly stretched her hands to reach for it. The moment her hand touched it, pain sprang and memories of her past replayed in her mind.

Her powers had taken a very long time to surface, and it had left her vulnerable for so long. When she was beaten, tossed aside, used, punished, chained, and bartered like a common thief. She had nothing to defend herself with. Every one had thought that she had nothing, everyone had thought she had no powers, they had seen her as a thing to be used. A thing to be punished and oh, how much they enjoyed punishing her for her mother’s mistake.

That night was so clear in her mind, it was such a long time but it was just like it had only just happened. Dorian had staggered into the house, drunk and weak. She had heard him come in, she heard him utter so many gibberish but she dared not go down from the little room that was assigned to her. It was more like a cupboard meant for rats, or a caged animal. His house was so big, even the lowliest of servants had a nice quarter, but she had nothing except the little room that was right above his.

Where the world grew, werewolves enjoyed the woods and the houses that looked more like cottages. Dorian was an Alpha who lived large, he had everything and lots of little cottages that were all tightly packed together. Many of which, servants, mates, family and pups occupied. But the main mansion, he lived alone, not totally. Since she lived with him. He had everything all to himself and could have given her any spare room, but he didn’t. Right at the ceiling of his room was another tiny little room. No one could detect that it was there, except the staircase was pulled down. He had kept her close, like a chained dog that he would unleash his terror on. And yes, she was a chained dog. If only she knew what he had planned to do with her. If she only knew how wicked he was, if she only knew that the punishment, she was to serve by his hand were worst than death, then maybe she would have killed herself as a child.

“Ivy,” he mumbled her name. She made no noise, but rather remained at the corner where she was with her body folded that her knees could reach her chest.

“I’m calling you, you cursed thing,” he roared and suddenly pulled the ladder like stair case that led to her room. She whimpered, folding herself into her body, wishing for some sort of escape. But the creaking sound of the stairs told her that there was none. He was coming and he was coming for her.

“Ivy,” he growled when she made no attempt to respond to the heartless beast she lived with. She was scared, she was confused and more to that, she did not want to go through the same thing again. He got into the room, occupying it with how big he was, then he looked around. He sniffed her out and had stormed towards her like a predator he was.

“There you are wretch.” Aziza screamed in fear and terror when her face met his. He smiled, liking the torment and pulled her by her hair. Her scalp burned and she could only scream and cry for mercy, but Dorian was not the one for mercy. He dragged her down the steps back to his room and flung her into his wardrobe. Her head and ribs smashed against the wooden wardrobe and she fell with a loud thud. Pain, no matter how frequently it happened felt so new. No matter how frequently it happened, the feeling of pain could never be something she was used to. She cried and whimpered with all the pains in the world crashing down on her. But he was not done.

“You and your family…” he kicked her, his legs hitting at her stomach.

“Arrrrghh,”

“Aziza.” Russel’s voice called out to her, pulling her out of memory lane and her eyes instantly snapped to the door. She glared at him and picked up her towel, then she wrapped it around her body and picked her lotion.

“You should stop sneaking up on me like that?”

“You were far from earth,” he responded and walked deeper into the room. His eyes keen on her and his heart heavy for her. The scars on her body were not the only thing that needed healing. Aziza said nothing in response knowing that what he was saying was the truth. He went ahead to sit on her bed while his eyes followed her every move.

“You should forget about all this you know,” he suggested and her eyes snapped at him.

“It’s over. You are in the human world, Damon is happy without knowing that he has powers or knowing that he is a prince, you can find happiness too,” he continued. Her eyes burned brightly and anger flooded into her veins like blood itself. Flashes of the night she was running, running from a pack of wolves. Their howls like the call of death. Dorian was the one to catch up to her, she could still remember how she saw a glimpse of his fur from behind, she remembered how the ground shook with his weight, she remembered the way he had growled, to signify his presence, right before the bone piercing pain that ran through her back, pushing her to the floor. Every other bruise healed, but the one of that night did not. He had poisoned her on that day.

“Oh, but I will,” her voice went dark and cold, then she smirked.

“I will find happiness,”

“Right after they suffer in my hands.” She said with a hint of darkness that always made Russel shutter.

“And Damon would make it all possible for me.”