Goldsin (The Chrysophilist Trilogy Book 1)

by Aveline Knight

“He should see how fast you come for me.”

I can’t make this easy for him. He just decided one day that I was worth his time, and now he’s between my legs without even putting in any work?

“In your fucking dreams.”

“You already are.”

“You like me at your mercy, golden one?”

“I’d like it if you called me by my name,”

“You didn’t that night,”

“Remember,” I murmur, unlatching the cuffs. “You asked for this.” He hesitates for a moment, his gaze narrowing. Only when the metallic click of the handcuffs echoes in the silent room does he understand. “Aurelia . . .” “Sorry, Julian.” I watch as he struggles against his restraints. “But I have a party to attend.” “Unlock these cuffs right now, Aurelia!” he snarls, tugging at the handcuffs attached to the bedpost, but I ignore his orders.

“You’ll regret this when I find you.” His low voice sends shivers down my spine. “Promise?” I smile back at him.

Written in my mother’s handwriting. “Lucian wants me dead.”

“Do you know the difference between me and you?” he whispers, stalking around me, his towering height forcing me to tilt my head up to maintain eye contact. “I’d chain you to keep you.”

“And once I do, I intend to exploit your body like an altar. Day and night.”

“So what? You’ll pray for me?”

“I’ll worship you. On my fucking knees.”

Mine moves toward Valentine’s stoic stare—frozen with undetected worry. I can see it in the crinkling lines around his eyes and the stiffness in his shoulders. He’s warning me.

Her presence is like a magnet, drawing me in even when I know it’s dangerous. And despite the uncertainty we’re in, I can’t help but take in the details of her appearance. I catch the way her red lips contrast perfectly against her pale skin. The shapes of the freckles dusting her nose. The stubborn tilt of her chin that tells me she won’t be broken easily. The shade of her green eyes—how there are two spots of brown in the left eye and just one in the right. But I also see the fear lurking behind her brave façade. The tremble in her foot that she tries to hide by crossing one tightly over the other. I hate seeing her like this.

“You see, I’ve been thinking about how best to utilize the golden one here. She has certain . . . talents after all.”

“The girl has relied on our wealth—on the Inferno Consortium—for quite some time now,” Lucian starts, the words oozing from his mouth like venom. “It’s only fitting that she starts to prove her worth, don’t you think?”

She isn’t a lady. She’s a girl, and girls of the Inferno Consortium get used.

“Her pussy must be gold if you’d give your mother to me to save her. It must be so if she’s being tossed between you and your brother. Since we’re keeping it in the family, maybe it’s time for my turn. What do you say?”

“You will not lay a finger on her.”

“Fine.” The amusement is clear in his voice. “You’d best do as you’re told, or I’ll be taking her to bed with me next.”

“Julian . . .” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “How long has your mother been getting hit by your father?”

“Since I was old enough to understand what bruises were. And that Mommy screaming wasn’t because they were playing tickle,” I say, my voice rough, borderline calloused. “He uses it to control me—to keep me in line.”

“I can’t let you choose me over your mother, Julian. I’ll help you with the Marlowe situation.”

How can I protect her if she refuses to stay out of harm’s way?

“Remember this,” he tells me, pointing at the crimson dripping to the floor. “Your body is mine. Your soul is mine. Whatever happens to you happens to me. Especially when I should have been preventing it.”

“There’s no point in telling you not to treat a girl like that again . . .” I take a step closer to him, and he staggers, hitting his back against the wall. “Because there won’t be a second time.” I smile as I plunge the knife into his stomach.

He went for my body; I’ll go for his soul. Without hesitation, I stab him one more time—straight through his neck.

As we speed through the Seattle night, the wind whipping through my hair and the city lights blurring together, I cling to Julian, feeling more alive than ever before. Because despite everything, I know we’re similar in so many ways. Bloodied, broken, but still fighting.

They’re more than just objects; these are fragments of my past. That’s why I didn’t add anything to remind me of Aurelia. Categorizing her as something that happened once and no longer exists would be wrong. That’s not her. She’s still a part of my present, something I refuse to let go of.

I found them just in time, but the anger and guilt still burn within me. Anger at him for touching her, and anger at myself for letting it happen. But more than anger, the guilt is relentless. All the punches I throw and all the victories I claim mean nothing if I can’t protect her.

I’m already failing at protecting someone else in my life—I can’t fail at protecting her too.

“Is that . . . my favorite honey bodywash I smell?” Apivita Royal Honey. After being in her room the other day, I couldn’t shake her smell, so I went and bought it. Simple. If I had to be haunted by it, might as well make it right. Plus, it seriously leaves the skin smooth. Emeric wanted to buy himself a bottle, but I punched the guy. Fuck if I want my best friend to smell like the girl of my dreams.

Aurelia’s stubborn. She’ll never style it like this. But I’m relentless, and if she won’t do it, then I’ll do it for her. I want her to love every inch of herself like I do; I want her to stop hiding behind the version of her they created. Or maybe, just maybe, I want her to look like she did before I sent

“Shut up.” She swats at me before crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t say anything.” The corner of my lips threatens to pull upward, revealing the smile I’m trying to hide. “You didn’t have to.” She looks down at herself with a hint of amusement. “But if I did,” I say, my voice low, “I’d say how there’s something incredibly sexy about a woman wearing nothing but a man’s shirt.”

“Relax,” I tell her. “I promise I won’t bite . . . unless you ask me to, of course.”

I know if I lie down beside her, the temptation to touch her, taste her, will be too strong to resist. And while I may be many things—a liar, a criminal, a killer—I am not the kind of man who takes advantage of a woman when she’s vulnerable. At least not tonight.

They call her the golden one, the lucky girl who survived the life she was born into. The chosen one. They call her this in mockery. Because she’s an orphan, gilded by our lifestyle. But I decided to call her the golden one because in that moment, when I turned toward the erupting giggles, I finally saw a person living. Truly living; truly happy. A girl with red hair, kissed by the sun’s rays. A girl with red hair, kissed by life. And when you grow up to be a reaper, you can’t help but become obsessed. Obsessed to the point of killing her. But within that lies the irony, because if she dies, I lose my purpose to live. And God, all I ever wished for before her was just that. To die.

I bet the rich get off on money just as much as I get off on vengeance.

“UBI TU GAIA, IBI EGO GAIUS.” As you are Gaia, I am Gaius. But another interpretation is, “Where you are, there I am.”

“We’re both fucked in the head. We have the same affliction. We’re hooked on pain.”

“Are you going to kill Lucian?” is all he says.

A wicked grin slowly spreads across his face. “Torture the bastard first. Play with him. That sack of balls hates it.”

When she told me about her mother I felt a weight fall on me. It was all too familiar. The treatment she went through is nothing uncommon in the Inferno Consortium—something even my own mother can’t run away from. But Aurelia’s mom wasn’t treated like a human being for even a moment. It was only in those last seconds of her life that she was finally a person. That she finally lived to die.

There’s one perk of buying her the dress . . . Since I bought it, I get to rip it off.

Ironic, isn’t it? The woman who breathes life into me is the same one stealing it away from others.

“Everything is always between you and me.” He sits back in his chair. “Next time I come to hear you’re spending your time on the golden one instead of doing what I asked of you, I’ll have you watch as your mother takes it from the whole Inferno Consortium.”

You know what happens to the kids you imprison? They grow up to build cages. How can I want to live when my mom taught me the only way out is death? Sometimes I wonder if the golden one will save me or if she’s already too late.

“That’s where you have it wrong.” He looks at me over his shoulder. “I can’t kill someone who’s been slowly dying all this time.” His shoulder muscles twitch. So I thrust the knife deeper. “You see, Adrian, your brother’s been dying every day that you’ve let this mistreatment go on.”