Page 32 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts
Her knees sank into the mattress. Groping for purchase on the covers, she struggled to maintain balance in the vulnerable positionhe’dforced her into. Her dress was still intact, giving her the illusion of safety, but it wouldn’t last. Soon, he would grab the hem and lift it. She hoped he wouldn’t tear it away – and leave her with nothing to wear.
Who is this woman?Amelia wondered.
She shared the frantic thudding of the other’s heart as if it were her own. Her breath heaved, as though the oppressive presence of the man in the room stole her air.
She flinched when he grabbed the fabric of her dress near her shoulder. There was a brief tug, the feeling of cloth digging into her skin, followed by the sound of tearing.
Her only garment lay ruined beneath her. Amelia caught the woman’s thoughts: Why had she thought he would be gentle? From the moment she’d met his eyes, she’d known his animalistic instincts ruled him. She didn’t fear him in the conventional sense – she would tolerate his touch – but couldn’t lie to herself that it would bring her any pleasure.
She was prepared to endure everything, to withstand the touches that made her heart shrink and her body ache.
But when a low growl came from behind her, her resolve wavered. Gritting her teeth, she focused on the intricate carvings on the bed frame – a tree of life, its branches stretching outward, curling into a semicircle at the top. She decided to count the leaves on the branches to distract herself from the dreadful scenarios her mind painted of what was to come.
A faint touch brushed down her spine, chilling her to the bone. She had deceived herself into believing she wasn’t afraid.
Fear’s icy grip clawed at every fibre of her being, pinning her there. It seemed her submissive posture wasn’t enough for the beast behind her.
She couldn’t let her legs buckle if she wanted to achieve her goal. Yet her knees slid forward on instinct, and her body curled in on itself, denying him access to her most vulnerable parts.
He growled again, and his hand slammed against the frame, causing the bed to shake. God, it wasn’ta hand. It was a huge, clawed paw, with sharp, exposed black nails.
He didn’t care if he hurt her. A few tears spilt, sliding down her cheeks. Amelia felt their path across her own cheeks.
His shadow loomed over half the wall above the bed. It was only a silhouette, but enough to show how massive he was, compared to her. Compared to any man she had ever known.
Not a man. An animal.
The woman’s panic sent Amelia’s pulse racing. Suddenly, something brushed against her neck, pressing against her spine. He sniffed her, then reached out to position her the way he wanted.
Will I faint from the pain?the woman wondered.Will I bleed?
Amelia recoiled in disgust. This was wrong. She was compelled to scream at the woman to fight back, to resist thebeast, to not let him claim her body. No goal was worth this kind of sacrifice.
But here, Amelia had no power to change anything. She could only stand by, bracing herself to share the other’s pain, even across the divide of time and space, through the barrier between vision and reality.
Something heavy landed on her neck, pressing her forward and burying her face in the pillow. She turned her head with effort, just enough to draw a breath as he pushed down on her. He’d apparently found her previous position unsatisfactory.
The woman had kept her eyes shut for a long time, but now, for a fleeting second, her lids parted. She caught her reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. Amelia froze in the vision, staring at the image of the woman whose memories she was sharing.
Blonde hair spread across the pillow and shoulders. Between the strands, the black claws of a beastly paw pinned her down. The pale face, though streaked with terror, displayed a resolute expression. The dark blue irises… Amelia knew those better than anything else in the world.
Her own eyes. Her own face. Her own body.
Heart leaping out of rhythm, she tried to move, but nothing happened. This wasn’t someone else’s torment. It was hers. She was the one being restrained. She was the one desperately breathing through pain, through fear. And suddenly –
Could that be Mikhail behind her? Was she interpreting the vision wrong?
For a while, she struggled to glimpse his reflection in the mirror, but her eyes wouldn’t obey.
Thoughts that weren’t hers intruded: She would watch as he tore her apart. Until she passed out from the pain. Because her purpose was greater than all of this.
Her gaze followed the furry form towering above her.
A manticore.
Her attacker was a manticore, just like Mikhail.
Wasit Mikhail?
