Page 60 of This Ravenous Fate
“No. None of that.” Elise Saint suddenly emerged to interrupt them. She fanned herself with her gloved hands, though her cheeks only shined with her perfectly applied makeup. Layla’s eyes roamed over the Saint heiress. Even her sweat made her look luminous, like a heavenly body. She was a true Saint, through and through. “You two need to be listening in to as many conversations as possible,” Elise said. She gave a quick wave to the bartender and he brought out two vodka shots. “Sterling.” Elise handed one to her friend. They tipped their glasses together, then swallowed the shots at once. Sterling did not flinch, but Elise began fanning herself again while her eyes watered after she swallowed the vodka. “Okay. That should be good.” She tried to smile, but Layla saw her lips tremble.
She held her hand out, intending to touch Elise, as if she could absorb her anxiety for her. But right before they made contact, Layla dropped her hand. Instead, her fingers trailed over the thick fabric of Elise’s dress. And as if she could feel the heat of the Saint heiress through the silk, she clenched her hand into a fist, locking the dress in her grasp. Layla let out a breathy sigh. Elise was so focused on Sterling, she did not notice, but Layla’s head felt light, her mind dizzy with exhilaration from being so close to her. The sweet scent of her warm blood and gentle perfume only intoxicated her further. Layla inhaled, the fabric slipping through her fingers as Elise moved backonto the dance floor with Sterling.
Jamie sneered after them. “I have never in my life seen a more miserable person,” he said.
Something about his mocking tone being directed at a wounded Elise made irritation flare in Layla. “Shut up,” she snapped.
The look in Elise’s eyes while she swallowed the shot, the tremor in her hands while she fanned herself, made Layla’s chest ache. Those episodes of deep dread and panic had never fully left Elise as a child. She remembered Elise telling her about how being around a lot of people tended to stress her out. Layla would offer her her hand to squeeze whenever she got overwhelmed, and she never complained, even if it felt like there was a boulder crushing her fingers.
“You’re like my rock,” Elise had said one night after a huge party her dad had thrown to celebrate the city’s reduced reaper population.
Layla looked at the purple marks on her hand from Elise’s grip. She wanted to show Elise and laugh about it, maybe say something along the lines of “I’m almost positiveyouare the rock in this relationship, not me.” But the fresh apprehension in Elise’s eyes stopped her.
“I take that back. You’re more like my wrap, or my medicine. When I’m around too many people, or when the world gets to be too much, I feel like an open wound. But you…” Elise’s breath quivered. “You are like a bandage that holds me together.”
Layla had smiled back. The moonlight flickering in from the window illuminated Elise’s face at the perfect moment so her joywas on full display.
As much as she hated to admit it, it killed Layla that Elise had no way to grab for that relief tonight. Sterling might have been her friend, but Layla knew Elise was harder to crack open than a diamond. And she didn’t see him walking about with bruises on his hands from Elise’s anxious grip.
Layla didn’t even realize she was stepping toward Elise until Jamie grabbed her elbow. “This way,” he barked, pulling her into the throng of drunk, dancing people. “Careful of your mask. Make sure it doesn’t fall off.”
Into the crowd they went. People enveloped Layla from every angle and she immediately became overwhelmed with all the sweaty bodies and pitched singing pressing around her. If it was this crippling for Layla, she couldn’t begin to imagine how stressful it must have been for Elise. Layla rose onto her tiptoes, trying to see past the people around her to find Elise.
But to no avail.
She settled back on her heels and began turning back to Jamie when a strong hand clamped around her wrist. On instinct, her fangs sprang free and she snatched herself away.
Sterling stared down at her, his face stricken white with fear. “I can’t find Elise,” he stammered.
Jamie curled his lip. “Tough luck, buddy, you lost your date already—”
Layla did not stay to hear the rest of his snide comments. She closed her eyes and let the ambush of the ballroom’s overwhelmingactivity on her senses melt away. Unseeing and unfeeling, she focused on finding Elise. Her scent emerged, faint and frightened amid the roaring atmosphere. But it was enough for Layla.
“Stay here,” she gritted out before plunging into the crowd.
***
Elise felt like she was wrapped in thorns. The party had faded away for her and now she crouched in a wardrobe, darkness closing in around her from all sides, conjured up by her battered mind. No matter how hard she pressed her hands to her ears, her sister’s piercing screams tore through the wooden box she sat in. Her hands shook so hard, her vision blurred behind them. The sounds of tearing flesh and wet growls from the reapers beyond the wardrobe flooded the air. In the darkness, Elise’s imagination brought forth images of them ripping into Charlotte’s throat, greedily tugging her between them until her limbs tore from their sockets. Blood seeped into the wardrobe until Elise sat in a pool of it. The metallic scent clogged her throat and nose, twisting her stomach into painful knots. A scream burst into her chest, and Elise shoved her hand over her mouth to stifle it. She clamped down on her fingers until she drew blood, her breath coming out in rough pants, the scarlet rivulets bubbling around her lips.
“Saint—”
Something grabbed her ankle, and Elise kicked out on instinct.
Her foot narrowly missed the reaper’s face, but she struck again,aiming for the bright golden eyes that stared down at her.
“It’s me,” Layla’s voice cut right through her panic.
Elise pulled her hands from her face and stared at the reaper before her. Layla was on her knees, one hand wrapped around her ankle. Their dresses pooled around them; crimson met white in a striking display of defiance. For the first time in years, Layla held on to Elise, and Elise did not flinch away from her.
“I thought…I couldn’t…” Elise inhaled shakily, her hands trembling. Even reaching for her usual ritualistic counting didn’t help; her mind was too fractured to focus on anything but her misery. “The clothes and the loud voices, they were too much… I was back in the closet, and I heard my sister—” A sob cut her off and she dropped her face to her hands.
Layla’s fingers tightened around her ankle. It was nothing menacing, but rather a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Her voice was quiet as she spoke, “I know.”
An overwhelming sadness crushed Elise’s heart. A night of celebration with music and cheer had turned into one of terror because of her own somber past. What should have been happy memories had been forged into weapons that threatened her own mind at the slightest trigger.
Elise pressed her fingertips to her lips and looked up at Layla. “I’m sorry.” No matter how shaky her body, no matter how distressed her nerves, Elise was angered by her own fear. Years later, and still no rest came to her soul. She should have been better.
After a few more agonizing moments of silence and deepbreathing, Elise pulled herself to her feet. Layla finally released her, though her eyes remained pinned to Elise’s hands, where her fingertips continued to touch the face of her ring in counts of seven, over and over. Elise didn’t realize she was murmuring the numbers under her breath until Layla’s hand reached forward, as if to halt her movements. Concern brightened the reaper’s eyes and she shifted closer, hand outstretched. “We can wait—”
