Chapter 42

That was news to him and Taker stroked his goatee thoughtfully. She had no respect for him, that was obvious. Abigail had been 'sent here to learn' and she had then, without learning anything at all, made up her mind. She didn't know jack about Mythril. Never had, only assumed.

"Fine. You're right." He amended gruffly. "I'm pleased to know that apparently, you weren't as sheltered as you led everyone to believe." Obviously not. Her assumptions apparently justified the trip and now she could ride high on the fact that, while she had been wrong, it didn't matter because sheer luck had gotten her valuable information and Malcolm. "How did you even get inside the castle?"

"Does it even matter? You don't care. I can see it written all over your face."

Her eyes narrowed at that sheltered comment, remaining where she was, and knew they would never agree when the subject of magic was concerned. This smug asshole standing before her was not the Mark she had fallen for, that was for sure. She didn't even recognize this man right now and it killed her, hurt her, in ways she didn't even know was possible. Her 'assumptions' had all been right on the money, especially since Mark had told her himself Mythril had magical properties. The moment she heard that, Abigail knew rescuing Malcolm was the right thing to do because he was the last sorcerer in Vesperia. Magic was very limited, but Abigail already knew Mark would never see things her way, from her perspective, and shook her head in disappointment.

"I was wrong." She spoke quietly, resignedly. "You're not the hope. You're nothing but a dictator. Not as cruel as Bray Wyatt, obviously, but you are STILL a dictator and you expect everyone to follow YOUR lead. You expect people to respect you and fall at your fucking feet, just like him. Just another dictator. Dean was right about you…and I was too stupid to see it until now. Don't bother helping me, I'll find another way, just like I did before."

One way or another, she would bring Bray and the DOV down, even if she had to scour the world for more magic to break the spell.

She was only going to see what she wanted. "Of course Dean was right about me." He said resignedly. "He tells you what you want to hear, and you just eat it up."

Wonderful had survived so many years because people looked at him to lead. When it came to major events and decisions, they held councils and assemblies, so everyone had a say. She was going to see him however she wanted because it didn't fit what she wanted or how she viewed herself, or whatever.

"You see yourself as some hero in a fucked up story, Abigail, and you never stop to think about other people… or you use them to justify what you do. Kind of like Wyatt did, using YOU as HIS justification. You do what YOU think, YOU feel, and fuck everyone else. And you'll never see it any other way because you don't care too." Because she had it in her head she was right no matter what and when she was wrong, something else came along to justify it.

Now she was laughing, actually laughing at him and it hurt her stomach because her body had been punished throughout the hellacious journey she'd taken. "I'm no hero. And these aren't MY people either." The sound wasn't enjoyable, it was broken, especially since he just compared her to Bray. "Dean doesn't say what I want to hear. He tells the TRUTH, whether I want to hear it or not. And he told me exactly what I'd get from you – how your pride would be hurt because I defied you, again, because you're a dictator. I could give a DAMN about your pride, not when it comes to the destruction of this world. I came here for one reason and one reason only – to take Bray and the DOV out. I brought magic back here in order to do that and I know Malcolm will help me do it. I don't care if we have to scour the rest of Vesperia in order to obtain what is needed to defeat him. I don't care if I have to go down another mineshaft and nearly DIE to obtain an invisibility cloak either. I'm going to do WHATEVER it takes to take him down and destroy the Dominion. Maybe YOU should open your eyes and realize you were wrong, for once, and that magic IS the only way to go, Undertaker. But you never will because all that matters is what YOU feel is right, never taking anyone's advice into consideration." Abigail bowed to him mockingly. "I'm so very sorry, your lordship, for defying your wishes and doing what I felt was best for Vesperia. Should I get on my knees and beg your forgiveness?" Snorting, she rolled her eyes at how red his face was and held her side, a zip of pain shooting through it. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going back through this storm to a place I'm actually wanted, your lordship. Unless you have something else you'd like to discuss with a nobody like me?"

Oh poor Abigail, she nearly died because of her obsession with magic! Taker already knew she'd do whatever SHE thought it took. Never mind other people's opinions or experiences. She wanted magic… fine. Abigail never made it down the rest of the stairs because he had stepped inside, retrieved his orb and the flash that lit up the tower was noticeable for miles. Magic. That was all she cared about. She didn't care about anyone, not even those people who were in the DOV. Abigail was just another Wyatt; she was fighting HER cause and would justify it however she wanted, just like Wyatt had. She didn't have anyone to tell her it was a bad idea, or maybe she should think about it, because Dean Ambrose wanted in her pants, so he was going to tell her whatever she wanted, even if he knew it was malarkey. Within seconds, he was holding out a hand, pulling her right back up those stairs and into his waiting arms.

"Let go of me!" Abigail growled, trying to fight him off, and HATED it when he used magic to make her stay put. It was NOT fair. "Oh sure, you'll use magic for what YOU want, but when it comes to saving this world, you refuse! You're a goddamn hypocrite, now let me go!" When she couldn't even move or struggle, tears swelled in her eyes as she stared straight ahead, knowing she would hate him if she knew how Mark really saw her. "Be careful lordship, wouldn't want you to soil your hands on another Bray Wyatt." She was turned around, against her will, to stare up into the acidic eyes of the man Abigail knew she loved. "What are you gonna do next? Use magic to seal my lips shut?"

"There you go, making assumptions again." He taunted, eyes flashing pure venom. "You know better than anyone else what I've done with magic to protect people." Yawning, Taker rose his hand and watched as she basically floated towards his bed. "You wanted me to see the good in magic, darlin', I think I may see your point." His lips curved into a wicked smile. "Seal your lips shut…"

There was an idea. She was thinking she would hate him if she knew how he really saw her, but she didn't care what she said to him, or how hurt he was at how she saw him. They had serious communication issues.

"Gotta ask, Abbie, did you miss me?" He asked, his tone teasing, but there was darkness tinging it as she plopped onto the bed.

Moving so he was hovering over her, his nose glided along her jawline, and inhaled deeply. He had missed her, the little pain in his backside. Abigail was taken aback by this turnaround, feeling confused and unsure of what to do, not that she couldn't move because he had her in a magic hold, literally. She shivered against his touch, despite how angry she was at him right now, and didn't want to give him any more ammunition to use against her. However, her heart was screaming at her not to let him get away, to slip through her fingers, because Mark was who she wanted. After what they'd said to each other, however, she didn't know if that was possible anymore.

"Yes…"

She would've nodded if she could and felt a tear slip down her cheek, trembling from both anger and desire all at the same time. That was a very weird feeling, one Abigail had never experienced before until now. Her eyes shut the moment his mouth sealed to her neck, the scent of sandalwood, gasoline, and leather infiltrating her senses. What was happening? The magic hold broke because her hand rose to bury in his hair, her neck arching into his lips.

"Y-Yes I did…"

It hadn't broken, he had released her. They were never going to see eye to eye on things, he knew that. Taker would step back and do what he was told, whatever was needed, because she would never see him as anything except the villain in her twisted fairytale. Bray Wyatt had damaged this woman, and he cared about her too much to just walk away. His teeth sank gently but firmly into the flesh between neck and shoulder, trying not to let the scent of Dean Ambrose repulse him. Magic enhanced everything, something he knew better than most, and this was what Abigail was planning on giving to people. Magical medicine, not knowing how it would fuse with them, or bond to them, or what abilities it would grant. It would be interesting, at the very least. His hands moved to her sides, feeling her trembling, and slowly wedged his massive thigh between her legs, just in case she decided to nail him.

No, there was only one villain and it was Bray Wyatt. Mark was just…stubborn when it came to magic and Abigail somewhat understood why. However, Dean was right he was a hypocrite and only used magic for HIS needs. Granted, he also protected the town with it, but as far as changing his appearance with his disguises and having a whole SLEW of untapped magic in the Mythril…why wasn't he using it? Why not use whatever means necessary to ensure survival? She didn't understand it and would NEVER understand this man as long as she lived. Abigail didn't want to be a dictator or rule over people – that was his ballpark. The only thing she wanted was to bring Bray Wyatt and the DOV crashing down.

If Mark didn't want to use the magical properties within Mythril to ensure they had an endless supply of medicine and other things, that was on him. The only thing she wanted him to do was break the spell Bray had on himself, along with Malcolm, and take him out. Feeling the anger radiating off him, Abigail struggled to gain control of her emotions and turned her head as their eyes locked, his mouth finally capturing hers in a heated, hard kiss that made her grip the front of the shirt he had on. When she kissed Dean, she didn't experience nearly as much passion and fire as she did with Mark, her breath completely stolen.

If he had known what she was thinking about Dean, or that she had been screwing around with Dean, Taker would have lost his mind. As it was… he was mad at her, but resigned and cared for her, so it was enough of a struggle not to paddle her backside as it was. Well… actually… she did have a very delicious, plump backside and he'd actually dreamt about it while being away for the past month. He growled, pulling away from her, leaning back in order to take her in. Her cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, and the desire in her eyes was unmistakable.

There was no way in hell, of any kind, she would EVER tell him what happened between her and Dean on that trip. No, Abigail was taking that secret with her to the grave, just as she and Dean agreed on. Right now, she was REALLY confused on what was happening because she was angry with him. Yet, she felt the need to tear his clothes off and let him have his way with her too. What the hell kind of contradiction was this?

"Mark…" She sat up on her elbows, only for him to push her right back down, and apparently didn't care his bedding was wet from her clothes since she was sopping wet upon arrival. "Wait…" She gasped out against his lips, trembling for an entirely different reason, and moaned when he proceeded to kiss her again.

There was no fighting him off or resisting. She'd gone a month without him, his touch, his kisses, and no matter what he'd said to her, Abigail couldn't deny what her heart wanted. Breaking the kiss long enough to take her top off, Mark went right back to kissing her, lifting her from the bed to plant her directly in the middle of it, her damp black hair splayed all around her.

"Someone missed me too, hmm?"

"I missed this for sure." Was his response, not about to cater to her ego anymore than he already knew he would later. Taker grabbed her, flipping her over face-first into what was probably an ungainly as hell position for her. Though for him… growling his approval, hands moving to her hips, Taker guided her onto all fours. He moved behind her, leaning over her in order to start kissing and licking his way down her spine, feeling her trembling beneath him. His hands moved down her sides, finally coming to rest on her hips, fingers splayed.

Abigail was still somewhat weak from her fever-induced coma, but the fire raging inside of her now, along with rage, desire, and adrenaline, overrode all of that, including her sore body. She shivered against his tongue and lips caressing her back, her hair hanging about her face as his hands kneaded her sides. His hands anywhere on her body felt spectacular and her eyes grew wide when he unhooked her bra with his teeth, the material falling from her chest down her arms. Mark waved his hand, lifting her off the bed again to remove her shorts and panties before setting her down again.

"Will you STOP that?!" She exclaimed, turning around to glare at him and groaned when he merely turned her back to where she was on all fours. "Now you're just being an ass…" Abigail gasped, unable to finish that because his mouth had gotten to work on her dripping sex. "Hole…oh fuck…"

"You wanted me to be receptive to magic, darlin'."

It was a wicked reminder and he had a devious smirk on his face, not that she could see it with his face buried between her thighs. Taker was using his fingers as well, one sliding inside of her, feeling her walls greedily trying to hold onto the digit while his tongue worked its own magic on her clit. She was soaked and not just from rainwater either; he pulled back in order to watch her own juices trailing down his finger to his wrist.