Page 43 of Devour
His lips are slightly plump. His nose is long. His brows strong.
He is handsome, in a strange way.
He watches me closely, measuring each movement. He tilts his head, carefully considering me, until finally, he releases a breath and his shoulders relax.
“You are mine now,” he tells me gently. “Do you know what that means?”
I swallow and shake my head.
“It means no one else can touch you without my permission. It means you are precious in this community, and you will be treated as such.”
“It means you can do whatever you’d like to me.”
His eyes darken. His chin dips. My heart rattles, waiting for him to admit his corrupted intentions. Waiting for him to act.
“What do you desire, Dove?” he murmurs.
Grief rises up in my soul because—hell, I don’t even know. I want to be free of this place. I want Astella. Tears sting my eyes. “Freedom,” is the answer I finally whisper through salty tears.
He sits back, stretching the space between us. “That is unfortunate.”
Unfortunate because he intends to take it away indefinitely?
“Freedom, is the one thing this place is entirely absent of.”
He grips my chin and tugs it up toward him. My eyes obey his unspoken command, as if by some spell, but I do not feel the prickle of magic. Just him. His energy. His natural power.
The fear he holds over me.
“I am sorry for your fear. But you now belong to The Ancient,” he bites out the words, nothing gentle left in his tone or demeanor. “The moment the shadows of this mountain touched your delicate skin, you lost. There is no escape. There is no hope left. The quicker you learn that, the easier this will be.”
My lips tremble. As my Dread releases me, leaving the place his skin touched colder than it’s ever been, I believe him.
I am no stranger to loss. Grief has been my most constant companion; I know his bitter kiss all too well. So, while this misery is a vice grip on my chest, suffocating me slowly, I also know that when the sun rises, I will again find my light.
The sun is so far away down here,I realize. But I suck in a deep breath.
Maybe here, the sun will be a tiny flicker at the end of an endless tunnel, but somewhere in the shadows, light exists.
I promised Astella I would find it, and so I will.
Finally, he huffs. “You are a little dove in a viper’s nest.”
Then, he shakes his head, eyes distant. He spins on his heel and charges from the room as if heading into battle. The door slams behind him, and I am alone yet again.
Here, in this room, there is an illusion of safety, but I know outside that door, in the shadows of this underground city, beasts are waiting to pounce.
20
Lina
Ishould have died a hundred different times in a dozen different ways over the last several years. Yet, somehow, I am still breathing.
Trembling on a cold stone floor. Alone. Face red and sticky with tears.
But breathing nonetheless.
I may not be as brave as I’d like, I may tremble when I face the horrors of this world, but the simple fact that I am still breathing is a miracle.
