Page 53 of Clouded by Envy

He started slowly, then increased his pace. Their kisses became wild with frantic fury. Something,somethingwas coming over him, and on instinct he moved down to her neck, breathing in her natural scent mixed with mint.

She moaned again as his tongue and lips covered the sensitive area. Just one taste. Just one quick taste to see what pumped through the throbbing vein hidden under her soft brown skin. He couldn’t—he shouldn’t—he didn’t want to—but he did. He fought to control the inner demon, but it was inevitable.

His fangs lowered and brushed against her skin. She seemed to like it, so he pushed his teeth down until he could smell the metallic blood, and the thick liquid flowed upward.

She let out a small cracked sound, and he started to pull himself out of his disillusioned state. He was fighting it, desperately. But then she dragged him closer, and he could do nothing except surrender to his deepest desire. While continuing to move in her, he bent his head back down and fed. From the sound of Rana’s moans, she was enjoying it as much as he was.

The taste was the sweetest and most delicious thing he had ever had in his life, lusher than any fruit. The world grew into a ribbon of color when his body trembled from being inside Rana, along with the blood that festered within his mouth—the perfect blend of ecstasy.

Brenik’s head cleared, no longer dizzy.

Guilt hit him as he swallowed the blood, unsure of how he would explain that part to her. Brenik decided he would reveal the truth and figure it all out with her, because she deserved to know.

As he brought his head up above hers, he saw it. No movement. Rana was dead, and he had killed her.

19

Brenik

“No!” Brenik roared as he lifted Rana’s dead shoulders like some kind of doll. Setting her softly back down, he spat out the taste of blood that remained in his mouth.

“How could I have done this?” he whispered. “Not her. Nother.” Gripping the dresser, he slammed it to the floor—the painting hit the wood and landed in pristine condition.

Brenik searched around the room, not knowing what he was looking for, but he didn’t want the blood. He didn’t wantherblood inside him anymore. Sticking his finger down his throat, Brenik made himself heave. Most of it splattered out, not black, but fresh and crimson—still warm from being inside of him.

The portrait on the wooden floor stared back at him. Brenik refused to put Rana’s blood on it—he would rather wither away that second.

Plastering his palms on the sides of his head, he couldn’t think—he couldn’t think about anything except for what he had just done. He sobbed desolately, all hope lost, and dropped to his knees, hands pressed against the floor, slapping it and yelling as spittle plummeted from his mouth to the wood. Eventually, he couldn’t take the pain anymore, and he cried himself to sleep.

Help, the first word he thought when he woke. Brenik needed Bray. She was the only one who would understand.

Brenik hurried and threw his clothing back on, struggling with his emotions as he put Rana’s skirt and top back on as well. He didn’t want to leave her naked, like she was some piece of trash. She wasn’t like the others.

It didn’t take him long to reach the tree—his realhome. Brenik scurried up the thick branches like his life depended on it—and it did.

“Bray,” he hollered, not caring who heard him. “Bray,please.” She wasn’t there. He stuck his hand inside the hole and slapped the bottom, destroying their things in the process. He didn’t care. Brenik hated to admit it to himself, but he did need her—he always had.

Tears flowed down his cheeks as he climbed back down, falling to the ground in a pathetic ball. A door creaked open. When he looked up, sunlight highlighted his sister, and he cried harder, unsure if it was from relief or anger.

Without shutting the door, Bray ran toward him. “Brenik? What’s wrong?” Bray asked frantically as she helped him to sit on the ground. He threw his arms around her, crying even harder.

“I screwed up, Bray. I’ve screwed up so badly. I need help, please,” he begged.

Unwrapping her arms from around Brenik, Bray pulled back and scanned him over, her jaw dropping down all the way. “How? How are you like this?”

Brenik told her. He told her every detail: about his envy, about not wanting to wither and die in the tree hole, going to the Stone of Desire, the curse he accepted without knowing the consequences. Then the deaths he had caused—Jeremy, the homeless people, and Rana. How he hadn’t wanted to do these things yet struggled to resist. How it was all a never-ending necessity that was beyond his control.

Bray barely looked at him, her face hard and furious. She kept glancing back at the house.

Brenik stared at the open door. “Where are they? I met the kid yesterday at school. He told me most of it.”

Her lips parted, and her eyebrows shot up. “Luca?”

He nodded.

“Wes took Luca with him to do a job for work.” Bray lifted Brenik’s chin. “Take me to her.”

“Okay,” Brenik whispered. Slowly, he stood from the ground, wiping away the last of his tears.

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