A Demon To Watch Over You
Watching him had become her life.
She’d spent centuries watching. Cold revenge is worse than a hot wrath. Heat burns up too quickly, but the cold stays in your bones. They’d given this one the same name as her villainous, deceitful lover.
He’d burned her until there was nought left but ash. Like her namesake, she’d risen from the flames, bent on destroying him. But destroying him wasn’t satisfying enough.
So she’d carried on.
One by one, she’d made his sons’ lives hell on earth. They thought they’d been placed under a curse. The idea of that made her smile in the icy shadows, watching them with glittering eyes as they tried to outrun their bad luck.
They couldn’t outrun her.
People said she was a fickle mistress. People were wrong.
She wasn’t fickle. She was anything but fickle. There were things that had to happen. They came from a higher source. She was just the weaver.
And then she’d fallen in love with him. She’d known what he was, how he manipulated people. She’d watched him all of his life, but it couldn’t stop the way she’d felt. It was a deep ache that she couldn’t ignore or disperse. It bubbled away in her heart. Always bubbling…
Until the day he’d withered it.
She’d become blind to her task. Her eyes couldn’t focus on the tapestry, threads or loom. She hadn’t seen how he’d cheated her. It had cut her to the quick to find out.
She sliced herself off from her sisters, pain and sorrow consuming her until nothing was left but that icy core of revenge. The purpose of her existence had been tainted. Her eyes no longer held onto that perfect clarity.
All that she could see was him and how to tear him apart.
At first, he thought he’d gotten away with it. He’d lived happily with his new wife, high on his new immortality and power. It wasn’t to last.
She’d made sure that it wasn’t to last.
Everything he held dear had been stripped from him by a few plucked strands of the tapestry. He’d come to find her, knowing it was her, knowing that she was destroying his perfect life. She’d told him how the tapestry could not be unwoven…
And then she’d pushed him in, watching as it trapped him in its tight threads, strangling him, forcing to watch her plague his bloodline for centuries. Sometimes she taunted him, telling him how, if he hadn’t been so greedy to fake love for immortality, he wouldn’t have to watch.
But this one…
This one was named after him. This one was his great, great grandson. And she wasn’t sure that she could kill him.
He was somehow different to all of the others. She could see the pureness of his soul behind the daring heat of his eyes. It was enough to make her consider pausing her vendetta.
She pushed the hair out of her eyes and smiled at him from her stool at the bar as he saw her for the first time. “I’ve been watching you for a while,” she murmured, knowing that he would never guess how long that had been.
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