Forbidden Knots (Shadow Duet #1)

15. FIFTEEN

FIFTEEN

Shadow

I couldn't shake the words from my mind: ' He will break her.'

It felt like karma was mocking me as if the universe was reminding me of everything, I had done to Thalia that Christian was now doing to my sister. The thought haunted me, especially when I saw him the other day, smiling at her. Christian was the kind of man who would go to any lengths to make someone suffer, and I knew he would hurt Sophie. I couldn't let that happen.

I had promised my mom and dad I would protect Sophie. I would do everything to keep her safe, even if it meant never speaking to Thalia again. But just as this thought crossed my mind, I saw Thalia climbing the stairs with Sophie, holding a carnival mask. A mask that seemed so familiar.

I sat in the living room, a glass of whiskey in my hand, fingers on my jaw as I recalled the night Thalia had been here. I had every opportunity to claim her as mine, but I didn't want to force her, even though I could feel her wanting me just as much as I wanted her.

She was like a magnet, pulling me to her each time I saw her. Knowing she was in the room next door, undressing and putting on that mask, made my desire for her nearly unbearable. All I wanted was to rip her apart and make her mine, hoping that would quench this insatiable thirst for her.

I left the glass on the table and walked back upstairs. I intended to get ready in my bedroom, but the sound of her in the next room awakened my curiosity. I wanted to watch her, to satisfy my craving for her presence, even if just by looking at her.

I peeked through a crack, watching her silhouette as she pulled on a red dress. Sophie moved beside her, helping her with a black corset. She pulled the strings tight, making Thalia’s waist look so small that I imagined it fitting perfectly in my hand.

Her long blonde curls cascaded down her back, and the images racing through my mind fueled an idea I knew I would regret.

Tonight, she would be mine. I vowed this to myself as I watched her. The sight of her ignited a fierce hunger in me, a need to possess her completely. I knew that by the end of the night, I would do whatever it took to make Thalia mine.

Every year at the beginning of August, there is a carnival in La Maddalena. Locals celebrate the sailors' return home and another successful season. It’s a day where anything can happen, and they would still celebrate.

"Dolce far niente," the sweetness of doing nothing, and Italians know best how to make the most of it. Even though this was my first year here, I was becoming one of them, though I knew I could never fully blend in. I would always be different. But tonight, I needed to be the same as them. I needed to pretend.

The streets were full of locals and tourists dressed in long vintage dresses and suits, wearing porcelain masks. Tonight was the night they could be anything they wanted, escaping from their lives just for a moment.

I could hear their laughter, the already drunk sailors, the clinking of bottles, and the thuds as the inebriated ones fell. Peeking through the shutters, I saw Thalia and Sophie leaving the house, holding their masks close to their faces as if no one would recognize them even though everyone knew who were.

I even heard them in the next room, drinking limoncello our neighbors left us last night, getting ready for the night.

I turned around, walking to the closet where a suit as black as midnight with woven gold edges hung. I took it and tossed it on the bed, pulling on the pants. My black shirt was unbuttoned and I put on a vest, leaving my chest bare.

The mask I would wear was porcelain black, with a skeleton jaw painted in white and gold lines around it, topped with a crown of the court madman in gold.

Even though it was a hot August night, I had to wear a blazer to match the ensemble. Some even wore gray wigs, but I decided to skip that part.

I picked up the mask from the bed and walked outside. As I descended the stairs, I noticed Chiara at the bottom. She wore a mask that covered only half of her face, with a very long beak adorned with purple details. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, her shoulders bare in a gorgeous purple dress. She looked pretty, as usual, but she wasn’t what I wanted.

Some would be satisfied with what they have, but this was not enough for me. I did everything to push her away, but she kept coming back. It was as if she suffered from needing to possess me, unable to stand the idea of anyone else having me. She had the same deranged syndrome as me, but she didn’t know my dark side. She didn’t know that by pushing my limits, she would only make things worse.

"You look handsome," she said, coming closer as I brushed past her.

"Don't tell me you’re still mad," she said, taking off her mask. "It was just a joke."

"Tristan," she shouted as I opened the front door, "You will fucking regret this."

"Get out," I said firmly, holding the door open for her to leave the house.

Chiara lifted her dress, brushing past me angrily, leaving her toxic scent lingering in the air. A car was waiting for her outside, and one of her friends was behind the wheel. As they drove off, dust kicked up, and she gave me a middle finger through the window. I closed the door behind her, the echo of her anger still resonating in the hallway.

I arrived at the castle, fastening the mask to my face just before entering. In the passageway, countless unknown faces were hidden behind black and white porcelain masks. Loud music and violins echoed from inside, and as I stepped through the stone entrance, the black walls and red carpet beneath my feet created a surreal atmosphere. Neon lights flashed, casting eerie shadows, but the sight didn't scare me; it felt like I belonged here.

Rumor had it that this castle once belonged to a director of psychiatry who was also of blue blood. After his death, the city claimed the castle, turning it into a place for the deranged. The inside was filled with old pictures, cobwebs hanging from them, and a grand staircase where couples were already making out, preparing for a passionate night. Stories abounded of rooms with trapdoors leading to bottomless pits and mirrored chambers that drove people mad. There were tales of ghosts and sailors' widows who had taken their lives for forbidden love.

This place reeked of sweat, blood, and an insatiable thirst for passion. Cursed from stone to stone, it was dark but special.

Lights flickered from all sides, just enough to reveal the beauty before me. My Storm. Like a category five hurricane, she spun with Sophie until their masks slipped off. To the side, Chiara rolled her eyes and cursed their every move. Every step I took closer to them made me want her more. My Storm. My peace. Only mine and mine alone.

She saw me and stopped as if she recognized the Shadow in me. My hand slipped into my jacket pocket, pulling out a small branch with a white oleander flower. She left Sophie and walked closer and closer to me.

"Poison for poison," I said, offering her the flower.

Her lips curved into a smile, teeth biting her lower lip as she took the flower and held it close to her chest.

"Isn't poison the sweetest drink?" she whispered, stepping back.

"I'm willing to try if you are," I said, stepping closer.

"We shouldn't," she smiled, "I don't want to be part of a tragic tale."

I took another step, my chest touching hers. My hand slid to her waist, pulling her close, while my other hand reached out. She placed her palm gently in mine, and I spun her around. The oleander fell to the ground as she gasped for breath.

I could see her chest heaving, her heart beating so fast it was almost visible through my mask. A smile spread across my face as I pulled her closer, then dipped her low, my mask brushing against her chest.

"We should stop," she said, trying to move away. But I spun her back to me, her back now pressed against my chest.

She gasped again, my breath hot on her neck.

"They are watching us," she whispered, gasping once more.

"I don't see anyone but you, Storm," I laughed, turning her to face me.

But as I did, I saw Chiara and Sophie together, both glaring at me, knowing exactly what I was doing. Yet Thalia didn't see Tristan tonight; she saw her Shadow, and they didn't understand that.

I knew this was forbidden, but she tasted so sweet. Maybe it's true that the heart desires most what it cannot have.

I spun her further into the crowd, her mask slipping just enough to reveal her eyes, which locked onto mine. I realized with a start that I had forgotten to put in my lenses, leaving my distinct green and blue eyes exposed. In the dim light, I hoped they would blend in enough to escape her notice.

"Why do you call me Storm?" she asked, stopping abruptly. Standing in front of me, she began to untie her mask. "Why?"

I laughed, and for a moment I forgot why. But when her eyebrows meshed together and her eyes, like thunder, sliced through my soul, I remembered. She came to me like rain but turned into a storm. She reminded me that my quietest screams were the loudest when I was around her. Even if I wanted to tame her, the one thing I would never be able to calm was the storm within her.

"Because I needed rain," I confessed, "and you gave me a storm."