Page 28 of Eldritch
His brow kicked up, lips pulling to a half-smile. “Only one way to learn instincts.”
I bit back the urge to laugh and spun around on my heel, racing across the snow toward the cabin. While my head chided me not to indulge in his flirtations, my body moved on its own, reveling in the fun of it. A quick glance over my shoulder showed him chasing after me, gaining speed despite his bulky body, and a squeal of a laugh escaped me. When I snapped my attention forward again, a figure ahead of me brought me to a grinding halt.
My boots slid across the snow, and I tumbled to the ground. There, only a few feet away from me, stood Uncle Riftyn, half his face torn away, the raw flesh glistening at me like a nightmare.
“Maevyth!” Zevander called out to me from behind before crashing into the snow at my side. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
With a trembling hand, I pointed.
Zevander’s gaze followed the path of my finger. “What?”
“Do you not see him?”
“See who?”
Uncle Riftyn stood silent, tipping his head as he watched me.
Frowning, I glanced at Zevander, and when I looked back, Uncle Riftyn was no longer there.
“Who do you see?”
Screwing my eyes shut, I shook my head. “No one. It was no one.”
“You were certain only a moment ago.”
“I…saw my uncle.”
“You said he burned in the fire.”
“Not that one, though both are dead. I suspect it’s only a matter of time before I’m terrorized by his burnt form.”
“You see the dead.”
I nodded. “I thought it was from having been ill. I didn’t see much of the dead when I was in Aethyria.” I released a shuddering breath, recalling the last time I’d seen Uncle Riftyn alive. “I watched the beast in the woods tear the skin from his bones.” I stared off, lost in that horror all over again. “I’ve seen awful things in my life, but that is a memory I won’t soon forget.”
Zevander’s warm palm met my skin as a soothing balm, while he rubbed his hand down the length of my arm, chasing away the chill. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”
After having checked on Aleysia, who appeared to have not moved a muscle, I entered the main room of the hovel in time to see Zevander peel off his tunic, leaving his body coated in blood and stringing bits of gore. He poured a warm kettle of water I’d heated into the washbasin and dunked his head in the water.
Pangs of yearning needled me and I quietly sighed, watching the way his back muscles contracted with his abrupt movements. How magnificently his broad shoulders tapered down to a fit and trim waist—one I’d had pressed against me not long ago.
Bigger concerns, Maevyth,I chided myself and cleared my throat.
He fished out a rag from a nearby drawer and stood upright, slicking his hair back with the palm of his hand. The sight of him fluttered my stomach, regardless of the stubborn gore that still clung to his face and chest.
He wrinkled his nose, staring down at himself. “What I wouldn’t give for a proper warm bath.”
Smiling, I stalked toward him and snatched the cloth. After dipping it in the basin, I dragged it over the slick red coating across his collarbone. An angry patch of red at the base of his neck caught my eye, and when I ran the cloth over it, he let out a grunt. “What is this?”
“Seems their saliva is a bit acidic.”
I exhaled a remorseful breath. “I’m sorry. I should’ve reacted sooner. I hesitated.”
“You’ll learn.”
“I don’t want to learn at your expense.”
“A small scratch isn’t going to kill me.”
