Page 125 of Eldritch
I rapped softly.
Nothing.
That alone concerned me. Aside from the moments when I’d found him entranced, he’d always been attuned to sounds, no matter how quiet.
I carefully opened the door and, peering inside, I found him sitting in the tub, his hands clutching either side of it, body trembling. It seemed he’d managed to scrounge candles that’d he’d placed around the floor, their soft flickering shadows dancing over his skin.
“Zevander?” I inched closer with cautious steps, not wanting to startle him, and quietly knelt alongside the floor. I pushedback strands of his hair to find his eyes blackened, as if lost to some unseen terror.
Dread coiled around my ribs, and I gripped his arm, giving a soft shake.
He inhaled sharply, seeming to break out of it, but instead of acknowledging me, his gaze darted around, the look in his eyes wild and frantic. Restless.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t breathe. My chest …. it’s tight.” Water splashed over the edge of the tub, as he seemed to search for something in a panic. Leaning over the side opposite me, he rustled through what I assumed to be his discarded pile of clothes. “Where is it? Where is it?” The terror in his voice heightened, his movements abrupt as he searched through the garments.
“What are you looking for? I can help.”
“It’s here. I know it’s here.” He finally relaxed back in the tub, clutching my scorpion necklace and a dagger.
I shot to my feet at the sight of the blade in his hand.
“What are you doing with that?” I watched in horror, as he lowered it into the water, and seconds later, ribbons of blood rose to the surface.
He tipped back his head, fingers curled tight around the necklace. “Think of Maevyth,” he whispered, somehow unaware that I stood right there, beside him.
My mind spun back to the night in the cabin, when I’d seen him in the bedroom with his back to me. Whispering the same thing. I was certain he’d been pleasuring himself then, but perhaps I’d been wrong.
“I’m here.” I dove forward, reaching down the length of his rigid arm to where he kept the blade pressed to his thigh. “Zevander look at me, I’m here.” Careful to avoid the dagger, I wrapped my hand around his.
His eyes shot open, and his muscles lurched. He threw my arm back, the hasty movement sending me off balance, and I gracelessly stumbled backward into the tub, legs flailing into the air, as the tepid water rushed to meet me.
Still wearing my shift, I scrambled to twist my body around, the garment soaked and clinging to me. My palm brushed the hilt of the blade on the tub floor, and at a glance of him frantically patting around for it, I swiped it up, holding it above the surface between us.
His steely gaze locked on the weapon, but the moment he lunged toward me, I tossed it away. The blade clanged against the stone floor, and still seemingly lost in whatever trance that’d failed to make him notice me, he tracked the knife and leaned toward the edge of the tub.
I reached out for his arm.
Like the strike of a snake, he twisted back around and gripped my throat, a flicker of madness gleaming in his eyes.
“Go on, then,” I rasped against the pressure, while his grip tightened. “Choke the very life out of me, if that’s what you intend.”
His feral gaze wavered with a shine, and after a brief pause, he seemed to slowly crawl out of his head. Brows knitting together, he released me and kicked himself away, pulling his knees up, as he covered his face with his palms. Thumping his heel at his temple, he released an angry, guttural sound in his throat, telling me he was spiraling into himself. “What am I doing? What in seven hells am I doing?”
“Wherever you were just now…it wasn’t real. They were images in your mind.”
“No.” He shook his head, emphasizing the point. “You’rewrong. They’ve always been real. Hiding in the corners of my thoughts. The voices. Their hands. That…smell.” His lips pulled to a grimace, the words seeping like acid through his clenchedteeth. “It clogs my throat. Suffocating, until I can’t stand to take a single breath.”
I wanted to ask him about those voices and those hands, to whom they belonged, but I feared dwelling on them might send him right back into that darkness. Every muscle in his body trembled, and so desperately, I wanted to touch him, to comfort him.
“Forgive me for putting my hands on you that way.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. You weren’t yourself just now.”
“The way I struck out at you. I would nev—” He winced and turned away, shaking his head. “I hurt you. These visions I keep having, they’ve rooted themselves so deeply in my thoughts, I don’t know what I’m doing. Who I am.”
I tipped my head to the side, searching for his eyes. “Tell me you’re with me now. Tell me you’re here. Withme.”
