Page 12 of Merciless
“Icanstill read your thoughts even though I haven’t broken you yet, human,” the Sha sneered. “We do not have your woman because she is not needed to sever the protective bond of your gods.”
“Not needed?” Shadow repeated. “You gave the order for the sky, the underworld, and the thread that ties them together.”
The Sha grinned smugly and spread its hands out to the sides. “If I destroy the bond with the sky and the underworld, what is left to tie together?”
Fuck.
Any hope I had left was snuffed out in that moment. We were done for from the moment Shadow and I got captured. And I hated nothing more than the sinking feeling that nothing could be done to stop it. Dad and Gunner could march in with an army of millions and itstillwouldn’t be enough. The Sha would just cast its net even farther and come back with an army twice as big.
“By the way.” The Sha turned to address Shadow. “Your performance of extreme pain has been most entertaining but I’m bored of it now.” Shadow’s face slacked in shock as that creepy stare returned its focus to me. “Guards, you will now concentrate your efforts on Reaper. High pain, low fatality.” The Sha turned toward the door with a smug grin. “And make sure Shadow is watching. One more week should be enough.”
The Sha’s split tail brushed over my feet as it turned to leave while the guards drew knives, brass knuckles, and even a small torch.
“No, don’t!” Shadow cried out in a panic from across the room. “Leave him alone and come at me!”
They ignored him and closed in tightly to surround me.
Five
MARIPOSA
Icouldn’t place what brought me here now. I’d been avoiding it over the last several days, but something pulled me to Shadow’s room today. Some desperate impulse to maintain hope maybe, or the simple need to feel my husband nearby.
My walk into the room was slow, deliberate. I looked at the beam in the ceiling, the one he could touch with his fingers and stretch his upper body forward. He looked so hot when he did that, I wanted to run my nails over him every time.
I moved my gaze to the bed, running my hand over the neatly made comforter. We made so much love here, both alone and with Jandro. We talked and laughed about nothing and everything. I wanted to burrow under the sheets and curl up, to feel some illusion of Shadow holding me, always wrapped around me in a protective embrace. If I imagined hard enough, I could feel the light kisses he would leave on my skin.
The bed dipped as I sat on the edge. Maybe Jandro and Gunner and I could sleep here tonight. I didn’t know, it just felt so wrong that Shadow wasn’t here.
My eyes lifted to his desk, the simple flat surface only holding a lamp, a sketchbook, and a small case of pencils and pens. I followed my feet to stand at the edge of the desk, staring down at the sketchbook’s cover. The edges were worn, the cover scuffed slightly, well-loved by his large, beautiful, creative hands. I stared down at the book for what felt like minutes, wrestling with myself.
Don’t. He didn’t want you to see everything in there. It should be his decision what you get to see.
The dissenting thoughts were weak, powerless as I reached out to touch the cover. I choked back a sob at the feel of the thick, sturdy cardboard. Shadow loved this thing. How often had he held this book, flipped it open, and turned the pages? He touched this sketchbook almost as much as he touched me. His life was documented in here, the good and the bad.
It was heavy as I picked it up, returning to sit on the edge of the bed in a daze. I just held the sketchbook between my hands, felt its weight on my lap for a few moments before flipping open the cover.
Small doodles greeted me on the first page—simple sketches, mostly of subjects in nature like plants, flowers, birds, and reptiles. In the lower right corner, he drew a highly detailed animal skull, a fox or coyote from what I could tell.
Flipping through the pages, I felt a small sense of relief that this was Shadow’s ‘safe’ sketchbook. It was mostly rough tattoo ideas and practice sketches. He must have had a different book for the things he preferred to keep private.
I smiled at one page entirely dedicated to Freyja as a kitten. He sketched her in various poses—sleeping, hunting, and playing. The pencil lines were loose and fluid, no doubt moving fast to keep up with the boundless energy of the kitten.
As I flipped toward the back of the book, I noticed an increase of portrait sketches, rather than symbols and animals. A smiling, upper body portrait of Jandro with a chicken perched on his shoulder made me pause and run my fingers over the pencil lines. He captured everything, from the playful mischief in Jandro’s eyes, to the texture of the bird’s feathers.Mi amigo,Shadow had captioned the portrait in small, blocky letters.
I turned a few more pages, spotting the familiar faces of Reaper, Gunner, and even a few self-portraits. I spent several long minutes looking at those—it was fascinating seeing how Shadow saw himself. One portrait even seemed to have been traced over, the same mirror image as on the opposite page, the only difference being the absence of scars.
Shadow looked like a different person without scars, still strikingly handsome but in a crisp, refined way that didn’t seem to suit him.
I let out a soft gasp, my heart accelerating at the sight of the next spread of portraits.
It was me.
The sleeping faces of Mari,Shadow had titled this page.
These sketches were quick, rough studies, but his pencil lines were much softer, lighter when he drew me. One was a close-up of my face while sleeping on my side—my eyelids, eyebrows, lashes, nose, and mouth, all in exquisite detail. Like he had been lying right next to me, drawing me as I slept.
Another showed my bare back with my hair spilling out over the pillow and the sheet draped low over my hips. He copied my tattoo into the drawing as well, but his focus was on the contours of my body—the lines of my hip and waist, and even the tiny sliver of my face that was visible.
