Page 19 of Semper

I turned toward him, my eyes narrowing. "But I can’t say the same about any of you."

The bitterness in my voice surprised even me, but I didn’t care.

He raised an eyebrow, slightly amused, but there was a glint of warning beneath his calm exterior. "And why is that, Lola?" He asked, the nickname dripping from his lips like honey.

"I had a life, you know?" I shot back, my voice rising with frustration, sharp and raw as it echoed through the vast space of the chapel. "Before all of this—before you and your Isle." I gestured wildly, my hand sweeping across the room, from the cold altar to the towering statue.

Alexander sighed, the faintest hint of amusement still tugging at the corners of his mouth, but his eyes had darkened, the condescension there subtle but unmistakable. "Ah, Delicia, not this again," he murmured, the tone almost dismissive.

His hand slipped from my back as he began to circle me, his movements slow, deliberate, each footstep tapping against the marble floor, filling the silence I’d created. "We’ve discussed this before," he continued, his voice calm and steady, almostsoothing in its rhythm. "That life you speak of... it wasn’t truly yours. It was borrowed temporarily, like a disguise. You wore it, but it never really fit, did it?"

I opened my mouth to protest, to tell him he was wrong, but no words came. My memories—of the factory, the hotel, the endless cycle of mundane tasks and doing all I could just to eat and keep a roof over my head—seemed to flicker and dim in the face of his quiet certainty.

"You hated that life," he pressed gently, his voice softening as though he were offering me some hidden truth. "Those people out there looked down on you, every day. You were expendable and unnoticed. Invisible, really. Always beneath them, always judged. But now..." He paused, stepping closer. His eyes held mine, unwavering. "Now, those same people would fall to their knees before you."

My breath caught in my throat. The weight of his words hung in the air between us, impossible to ignore. I hadn't thought of it like that, but there was something undeniable in what he said. Something that made me pause.

"You were chosen, Lolita," his voice weaved around me, pulling me closer. "Not just by me, but by the Isle itself. Stygian, this life—it’s in your blood, something for which you were born. You’ve spent so long being unseen, and overlooked, but here you are revered. You’ll never be cast aside, never be beneath anyone—except me, of course." His hand slid down my arm, fingers grazing my skin like a brand.

"You have power now. Those who once thought themselves above you would be brought to their knees if you wished it. This is your place, where you belong—by my side.”

I swallowed, the ache of something unspoken tightening in my chest. It was as if he were giving me a gift, not just telling me something. There was no malice in his words, no threat—only a kind of certainty, an offer of something more. I wanted toargue, but the words caught, choked by the weight of everything that had happened. The blood. The rituals. The power he held over everyone here. Over me. I wasn’t ready to surrender, but how much longer could I resist the inevitable? We were going in circles, an endless loop where he always had the upper hand. As things stood, I couldn’t win.

"Is the only reason I'm here, the reason you took me, because of two people I've never even met?"

He knew who I was talking about without needing more explanation. “That’s not the whole reason, but it definitely played a part in it," he openly admitted. "The blood that flows through your veins is the same that flows through mine."

My heart dropped. "W-what do you mean by that?"

He took a step closer, his chest nearly pressing against mine. "Jamison and Cassandra," he began, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Did you notice anything about them?"

I blinked, feigning ignorance, trying to delay as my mind raced. "She's pregnant," I offered lamely.

He smiled, that knowing grin that made my stomach flip.

"You're adorable when you try to be naive," he teased. "What else?"

I felt my chest tighten. There was no way to pretend long term that I didn’t understand what he was hinting at even if I didn’t want to admit it.

"No, no..." I stammered, taking a step away from him. "How old are you?"

He chuckled. "Still in my prime. Close to thirty-one."

"So almost eleven years on me." I stared at him, and he stepped closer, eliminating the space I’d just created. I tilted my head up, forced to look into the eyes that seemed to see through everything.

"You didn't answer me.”

"They...look like siblings," I murmured. "But you said that was his wife."

He grinned. "On the Isle, you'll find that's common."

"But she's pregnant." The words stumbled out of my mouth.

I wasn't even sure why I said it, why that fact stood out to me in the midst of all this. He laughed lightly; his amusement clear as he closed the remaining space between us and wrapped an arm around my waist. "Yes, that generally happens when two people sleep with one another," he teased. "But there's more to it than that."

I exhaled heavily, trying to keep it together, but my mind was racing, searching for a way out of this conversation. I wasn’t ready to face it, I couldn’t.

"We're not brother and sister," he said softly, his tone smooth and deliberate, as if he could sense the direction of my thoughts before I could even voice them.