Darius Shareef

Two days later. That is when she heard. Two fucking days later because the nitwit couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone, or worm his way out of whatever hole in the wall place he shoved himself into. So, when news finally traveled her way, she took her sweet, sweet time making her way towards Seraphim. She poured over plans for Henry, lounged in a deep blue velvety chair for a few hours with only her thoughts, and then she finally took the scenic route to Eden. It is fair to say that when she showed up around ten that night, she was seething. Her blood was almost boiling with rage. She did not stop for anyone in the pits. She made a beeline for where she knew he would be.

She shoved the door open immediately, and pinned him down with her eyes. He had his plain tee bunched up around his neck while calloused fingers poked and prodded a new wound. Stitched up. At least he was wise enough to do that. He must have seen that brunette he is so dreadfully fond of. A waste of time, she muses bitterly. “Why would I do that? Vittorio could happily speak volumes on why doing just that would be a pointless affair. You don’t listen.” Meeting his gaze in the mirror, scowling deeply, she slams her shoulder against the door frame and crosses her arms tight against her chest. Well he isn’t dead, she tells herself. Not yet. The jury is still out on whether she would wring his neck for being so careless and for keeping her out of the loop.

“Unlucky is only one of the things I consider you. I would also say stupid, reckless, not a good team player, and” she pauses, quirking a brow high at him. “Easily swayed by the heart.” Isn’t that the way things have come to be: she’s all head, and he is torn asunder by a heart so susceptible to attachment. Or, perhaps it is venturing into dangerous territory — love. That just won’t do.

The poison in Rosalie’s words was venomous as she spat at Darius, though his expression barely changed from his neutral state as he began to wrap a bandage around his waist. Rather than be offended, he chose to interpret it as worry, and oh, how lovely was it be fussed over by Rosalie.

“Yes, because anything V has to say, is of no importance to me.” Darius replied, watching the scar disappear underneath a layer of tan bandage. The mutual distaste between him and Vittorio was not much of a secret by anyone, despite them begrudgingly working together when needed. Neither of them were stupid enough to let personal grudges get in the way of more power; at least, Darius wasn’t. 

An eyebrow of Darius’ raised, and he patiently waited until Rosalie finished her list of his wondrous traits, wearing an amused smile on his face. Easily swayed by the heart. How ironic that she would say that, one of the only women who would ever change his ice to fire, blazing to keep her warm. 

“Oh, Rosa...don’t say anything you don’t mean. You know I’m valuable, in spite of my misbehavior.” There was a lilt in Darius’ tone, the shirt hanging around his neck coming to cover the bandages now wrapped around his torso. 

“You caught me red-handed. You should know best on how soft I am for you.” The compliment was wrapped in sweet honey, though there was a facet of truth behind sweet words, if she chose to believe it.

Rarely did Darius ever speak of him being a Saint, but with the growing distaste for Saints in Athos, it didn’t come as much of a surprise that those who did know he was a Saint, had spread word of a potential new target. 

Once upon a time, perhaps Athos had been a golden city; one that hid the inevitable underground as best it could. However, it had festered, rising from below to taint those who walked the streets, echoing its call for bloodshed and war in the ears of anyone who would listen. Hundreds and hundreds were nipping at Darius’ heels as gunshots rang in the air. 

Power coursed through his veins, strengthened by the Sinners running rampant in his system, as he watched the limbs of his attackers contort painfully, shooting each other against their will. There was a break, an opening among the madness of corpses hitting the ground, where Darius attempted to escape. 

Suddenly, the sound of a gun cocking behind him caused him to stop dead in his tracks, eyes shutting in the realization that one Saint, as powerful as he may be, was outnumbered with the hundreds of attackers behind him.

Before Darius could take his next breath, his hand clenched, causing the person’s limbs to jerk, invisible strings yanking in an attempt to give him safety. The bullet rang from the gun, lodging itself in Darius’ body just as he snapped the neck of the person behind him.

“Fuck.” Darius hissed, a hand coming to touch the bloody wound, mind and body still in shock as his knees buckled. In the few seconds before the pain set in, Darius quickly snatched his phone and dialed Aurora’s number from memory. 

Within the first ring, heat and horrid pain flashed through Darius’ system, causing his phone to fall to the pavement as a groan left his lips. Despite having been shot before, it seemed that the mind-numbing pain was something he never 100% got used to experiencing. 

The angry scar was visible in the reflection of the mirror, a circular bullet wound adding to the plethora of scars that littered Darius’ body. His shirt dangled around his neck as he examined the scar, fingers running over raised skin. Due to Aurora’s help, the bullet had been removed and the wound was healing nicely. Despite the healed over skin, however, it did nothing to quell the bloodlust that came with a desire to kill those who had been chasing him down that night. 

The call to murder any and all Saints was idiotic, and only served to enrage the wrong Saints. Darius had killed many within the mob at his feet, and he was merely biding his time until he would seek out the rest and make them suffer.

In the mirror, Darius noticed an all too familiar woman manifest behind him, eliciting a fond smirk to appear on his face. His eyes flickered up once to acknowledge the new presence in the mirror, before they returned to attend the wound on his lower back. 

“You can spare me the lecture, Rosa.” The tease was gentle, for how could he ever raise his voice at the woman who set his icy heart aflame? It was only after the words left Darius’ mouth, that he slowly turned his head to meet Rosalie’s piercing eyes, a lighthearted grin tugging at his lips. 

“Wrong place, wrong time. Consider me unlucky.”

Darius should have known that his repeated lies would catch up to him eventually. For years, he dodged questions and a built a life of manipulation; one that would lead to a throne assembled from the corpses of enemies and friends alike. 

The blood spattered on Darius’ face, however, coupled with the dying gasps of his freshest victim, were details he could not so easily hide from the man who had simply caught his dear friend at a poor time. For a moment, all the two of them could hear were the choking sounds of a soon to be dead man, his coughs sputtering into cold silence.

“…when were you going to tell me?”

The words were quiet, and Darius merely cocked his head to the side, regarding the horrific expression on Ruben’s face with one of curiosity, despite everything. His powers were readily available to use to make Ruben walk away if Darius commanded it to be. However, he remained on the floor, crouched over a lifeless body.

Tell him what? That he did everything in his power to shield Ruben from what his darkness coaxed him to do? That Darius was doing nothing but protecting Ruben from what he was capable of doing?

“Ruby, it’s not - ” Darius’ calm voice was interrupted with Ruben’s shaky one.

“Please don’t lie to me.” It was a shaky request, akin to a desperate plea. As Darius stood to his feet, Ruben stepped back. Was he scared? Perhaps he was right to be. However, it didn’t stop the crestfallen expression on Darius’ bloody face.

“Ruby, I would never.” Darius insisted, voice cracking over the last word. “…I didn’t want you to be scared of me. I didn’t want you to leave. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

Desperation was so easy to mimic, anguish swimming in his icy eyes, framed by smears of red blood. Tears came as naturally as blinking, though his throat remained clear, despite the choke in his next words.

“I need you. I need your help.” His plead was nothing but a lure; one that wrapped around Ruben’s throat and refused to let him escape from a suffocating, toxic flame. “Don’t leave me in my time of need. You wouldn’t do that to your best friend, would you?”

Feeling as if he was about to get lucky, it came as a complete surprise as his face connected with the hard stone of the wall. Swearing internally, Dexter’s body refused to move as he struggled with himself to fight back.

“Why’s it matter? Did I get someone you care about in trouble?” he all but snarled out the question. Having a gun pointed at you could bring out all sorts of reactions, and with him it brought out anger. His past was something that he had hoped would stay there. Dexter had been cautious, ever since fleeing from Omerta, and he had become lax in the security of the life he had built for himself.

A slow smile crept upon Darius’ face at the insinuation this small action was fueled by revenge. Grinning, he idly tapped the gun against the back of Dexter’s head, lazy eyes watching as he squirmed. Darius was in no rush, his powers practically gluing the Saint to the wall while his hand lightly trailed the dip of Dexter’s spine.

“You think the likes of me would be tangled in your lowlife mess?” Darius asked, his words honey sweet despite the toxicity in the lilt of his voice. With an eyebrow raised, Darius simply chuckled, watching Dexter attempt to escape the trap of his abilities. Leaning into his ear, Darius allowed his words to coat Dexter’s mind, sinking into the depths of his thoughts.

“Your bounty’s what matters,” he purred, “so no hard feelings, right?”

Suddenly her hair was pulled back with his hand in that familiar way, lips trailing down her neck and setting her skin on fire. There was no doubt he could feel her racing pulse against his mouth. It was hard to concentrate. Her breath, like a sigh, escaped her before he started to speak again. Reality settled in again. No. No, there was no way she was allowing the excitement of the moment to go that far without some privacy first. She exhaled and it shook a little like a laugh, hands squeezing his arms to pause him and another kiss pressed against his lips before she answered. “This is a bad idea.”

And yet, she pulled Darius with her anyway as she hurried them to the stores beside the Seraphim building. All humor gone for a moment, she concentrated on getting them somewhere quick. It was late at night and everything was closed but the door of the nearby bakery looked promising. Her hair was ruined already so she took out a clip from the back and let the loose brown curls across her shoulders before concentrating on quickly picking at the lock the way she used to when it was a hobby in Omerta. 

It opened (no surprise) and she tugged Darius inside with her as he shut the door behind him. The concentration was all gone now and she smiled in the excitement of the moment as their lips pressed together again. In the dark of the closed shop, they revisited history.

Aurora trembled under his touch, and Darius couldn’t relish in the moment more. For a moment, it was as if they were back in Omerta, where they wasted their nights in a daze of alcohol and cocaine. 

“Like a bad idea ever stopped us before.” Darius said breathlessly, the shadows of night posts chasing their heels. Watching Aurora’s hair tumble down her shoulders, he grinned at the realization of her stooping to the level of a criminal breaking into a closed shop. By the next day, all traces of the crime they were about to commit would disappear through the tug of the right strings. For now, however, it seemed they were ready to do whatever they desired to in a place they momentarily called theirs.

Hands came to press firmly against Aurora’s hips, shoving her up on the nearby counter, lips crashing to meet hers once more. The heat between them almost fizzled at the cool touch of the marble counter top, the kiss only breaking for Darius’ shirt to be torn from his shoulders. 

“And to think just a little bit ago, you were insisting you were some goody two shoes doctor now.” Darius teased, voice breathless before climbing to push her body further onto the cold surface.

“You can’t escape the Banshee that’s still inside of you, ‘Rora.”

A genuine smile pulled at the man’s lips. Perhaps the words weren’t as true as they should have been, and in fact Ruben could successfully remember and forget a handful of occasions when Darius hadn’t been there for him, but in that moment, he believed him. He always would, too. No one was perfect. He certainly wasn’t.

“That’s probably because I am,” Ruben answered, mirroring his grin. “I thought I made that pretty obvious.” Though the remark was only teasing, he didn’t consider himself to be ashamed or afraid of his own feelings. He liked Darius, and he liked their relationship, as informal as it may be.

Leaning on the counter, he remarked, “You seem like you’re in a good mood. Did you make a good sale, or are you just happy to see me?” 

The admission to an obvious truth made Darius’ lips curl in a smug grin, never failing to relish in the admiration of others, as their admiration was readily justified. Ruben was his friend, after all; how could he not be fond of Darius after all their time together?

“Yeah, but I like to hear you say it. Really gets me going.” Darius teased, pairing a sip from his glass with a friendly wink. The burn was hot and welcoming in the back of his throat, and the empty glass was soon signaled by a sharp clink against the bar counter. 

“Business has been good, but I can’t lie and say you don’t put me in a good mood.” Flattery was Darius’ specialty, and for someone like Ruben who seemed to need some to pull him out of a hole of self-pity, it only rolled off his tongue even easier.

Nothing else seemed to matter to Aurora in that moment but to give into the sinful impulses she’d managed to repress up until that point. The tenderness of the kiss increased in passion and energy as she leaned in closer, chest against his. Her hand opposite Darius’ came up on his other side, moving towards the back of his head to keep him close. 

But she stumbled backward as she moved, bumping into a group of friends coming in from the door by where that Aurora had led them both to in order to escape the dancers. The friends held the door open by pushing up against it, if only just to get out of their way. With that, Aurora hurried herself and Darius out of the stuffy, crowded building into the crisp, cool air.

And so she continued kissing him, affections slow but passionate underneath lonely nighttime shadows. What are you doing? You shouldn’t have done this. Now that they were out of the Seraphim building, new thoughts arose. But it hardly mattered. Despite the voice in her head that spoke after finally gaining traction, Aurora couldn’t find it in herself to care as much as she thought she would. She was lost in the moment - surprised by how much she’d wanted it. 

The hedonism Seraphim had infected her with being gone, allowing logic to return, was only enough to slow Aurora down but not stop her. When she pulled away just enough to inhale a breath of air, hazel eyes searched his face in hazy surprise.

Aurora pressed her body against his own, and Darius welcomed the intrusion into his own space by pulling her flush against himself. He was aware of Seraphim’s latest addition, how sinfulness dripped from Brooke with ease, yet awareness did little to prevent himself from succumbing to the lust that an ever familiar body brought.

Breath was caught between lips, hungry for more contact. Darius’ fingers dug into Aurora’s skin, crescent moon marks dictating just who a part of her would always belong to; someone she could never truly run away from. Bound by desire, murder, and a shared dark family, even the escape to a different city wasn’t enough to break how tightly bound they were to each other - whether Aurora liked it or not.

They broke for just a moment, if only to find refuge in somewhere more private where they could tear each other apart, the way they so often did in Omerta. The cool air caused goosebumps to momentarily litter Darius’ arms, attention quickly diverted by Aurora’s warm kiss.

As Aurora pulled away, a sigh left Darius’ lips, hands coming to thread through dark locks of hair to keep her close. His grip was possessive and protective, before kisses were pressed softly down to Aurora’s neck. Darius’ hand caught a fistful of hair before he pulled it taut, yanking her head backwards to expose her pale neck.

Sucking hard against Aurora’s skin, his lips crawled back to the lobe of Aurora’s ear, words whispered heat as Darius’ hand trailed down her back. 

Aurora’s expression changed so much in such a short span of time. One moment it was surprise and confusion. She even considered whether or not he was telling the truth before there was a flicker of acceptance. When she instinctively and faithfully accepted this moment as genuine, her expression softened. “And I want to forgive you too, Darius. You’re just a hard man to trust sometimes. You know that.”

But it was clear still that for most of the time, Aurora was in the midst of fighting an internal battle of wills. Logically, she was well aware the wrong choice right now was exactly what she felt so inclined to do. Even before the powerful shove that the tainted atmosphere was giving her, such proximity to the person who gave her so much comfort and happiness in the past made her want nothing more than to revisit every ounce of affection they’d once shared. It didn’t help that Darius was speaking the way that he was now.

Frustration and anxiousness finally gave way to resignation as Aurora felt herself give in, her eyes glazing over his lips. “But I’ll try to,” she said quietly, distracted. “I always have.”

How much a part the sin inducement played in her decision, Aurora would never know. Perhaps not even when she was finally clued into Cullen’s ability. But before she could continue trying to stop herself, Aurora had finally closed the small distance left between her and Darius. Their lips met, and, for that incredibly charged moment, she’d forgotten any time at all had passed since Omerta.

Aurora was smart not to trust him, and yet in the same instant, foolish to want to trust a man like him. Was it cruel to knowingly draw a person into his own gravity, knowing that it wasn’t in their best interests to do so? Perhaps, but it had been a long, long time since Darius had last had the luxury to dictate morality within an occupation such as his own. 

It was for survival and safety, Darius told himself, and yet Aurora remained in a realm of his own selfishness that had claimed her as his own.

The kiss was inevitable; she was weak to his touch, to his words, and Darius susceptible to repeating old, pleasant memories. Aurora was soft to the touch and ever so familiar, as calloused fingers roamed to explore the open back that her dress revealed. Pulling her close, Darius chose to remain silent, allowing her words to die against his mouth. 

Aurora’s lip found refuge between Darius’ teeth, a gentle tug of skin that melded into another soft kiss. The curve of her jawline rested in the cup of his cold palm, fingers cupping the base of Aurora’s neck in a possessive manner.

“Now see, Emilia...it’s just not as simple as telling me to leave.” The look on Darius’ face was one of pity, eyebrows furrowed. In front of him, Emilia suddenly froze in place, trapped in a moment of time by his own powers. The only thing moving were her wide eyes, frantically trying to re-gain the control of her body that she had lost to him.

It was a look Darius had seen before, one too many times. He imagined it must be frightening to no longer have authority of what was once theirs. Luckily enough for his victims, they typically did not steep in those emotions for very long.

Stepping closer to Emilia, he leaned into her, cracking a soft smile as he tilted his head.

“What’s with that look, Em?” Darius’ tone was soft, as though he were speaking to a child. Slowly, he shook his head, a slow sigh exiting his nostrils. Under Darius’ control, Emilia’s windpipe began to constrict under his pitiful gaze. 

“Oh...princess, you brought this upon yourself, didn’t you know?” Half-structured words desperately tried to claw out of Emilia’s blue lips, but Darius remained relaxed, jaded to death after the countless number of times he had witnessed such an event.

“So naive, and yet so curious...so trusting of people you just...shouldn’t trust.” Darius explained, watching with blank eyes as her teary ones stared back. An amused smile tugged on his lips, feeling Emilia fruitlessly fight back against his powers. 

Aurora was annoyed, if not a bit hurt. Her first instinct was to keep feeling that way. And, despite his words, the feeling didn’t immediately change. It didn’t help that the atmosphere around them felt oddly liquid with color and lights dancing in every corner of her vision. Over the course of the night, it’d been hard to focus her attention on anything. And it wasn’t until now that she was avidly attending to the familiar details of Darius’ face and his words that she started to find some peace in the turmoil of her head. She begun to listen.

“Do you always have to be so in control?” Aurora breathed out, looking at Darius with a sense of desperation. “I need to make those decisions for myself - knowing all the facts… I never stopped you from making the choices you’ve made, as dangerous as they’ve always been. I never kept anything from you or kept you from anything. Whatever choices you made, I was just there to fight at your side and help pick up the pieces if things went wrong.”

“Keeping things from me does the opposite of protecting. The drugs-” Aurora scoffed softly. “In the end, it’s not really your fault. Not really. I made the choice of my own volition, knowing full well I was ignoring my gut in search of a quick fix. I don’t blame you for what’s happened but-” She exhaled sharply. “You still lied and- and I don’t want to lose you either,” Aurora said, quietly as she took a step closer. The closeness was a mistake, she could immediately feel it after the deed was already done. Some sort of different desire rose inside her. “And if something like this happens again, I’ll know I can’t trust you - no matter how good your intentions were. And that’s the same thing as losing you.” 

Do you always have to be so in control? The answer came quickly to Darius; yes, of course he had to be in control. Back in Omerta, being out of control was the quickest way to get his throat slit. Athos was no different, despite the glittery surface that it desperately tried to emanate. Darius wondered if Aurora would ever know the truth of how far his control had spread through the use of his Sinners. They littered the underground of Athos, poisoning citizens with pleasure from the inside out. 

For anyone who had an ounce of good in their heart, it was natural for them to apologize for their own actions. And if one were to listen just long enough, it would be of their own volition; just like many of people’s own mistakes.

Aurora stepped closer into Darius’ space, and he welcomed the familiar change in atmosphere, voice lowering into one that asked for forgiveness that so many sought. Fingers brushed against Aurora’s, danging together in their now shared space.

“I’m sorry.” If the tone and expression were genuine enough, was it the same as the intent being truly genuine? At this point, the line had blurred so often that Darius could barely tell. “I want to protect you. I always have.”