Page 289 of Ominous: Part 1
A shiver glides down my spine.
“What was that?” he whispers in my ear.
I bite my bottom lip, eyes on the stairs above us, but my heart is in my throat, my body growing flushed with heat.
I’m trying to pay attention to any footsteps, anyone heading downstairs like we are, but all I can give attention to is Eli’s dick against my back, growing harder the longer we stand here.
“Let’s just hurry up,” Luna says, her voice tinged with nerves.
Eli brushes his thumb along my bottom lip. His tongue flicks over my piercings, and the cool air wicking against my skin in the aftermath has my knees feeling weak. “Yeah,” he says, only for me to hear as Luna scurries down the stairs. “Let’s hurry.”
“Tell me more. About the underworld.”There are no ghosts by the pool. Not exactly. But when I look to Eli, his knees to his chest, arms wrapped loosely around them, eyes on the bright blue water, the lights surrounding throwing shadows on the beautiful planes of his face, I see we were looking for something that was right here all along.
He has a faraway look.
He’s not really here with my words, haunted by something long gone.
Luna is asleep.
Draped over a plastic pool chair, ankles crossed, mouth open, head tilted back and aimed toward the sky, phone in her lap.
It’s too cold for me to sleep, but I think the vodka in Luna’s veins helped her along when we didn’t find anything dead come back to earth around the pool or in the pool house, doubling as a gym. We settled here, in our respective spots, and talked about nothing until Luna nodded off.
“I don’t know much,” Eli answers me.
I don’t believe him.
“Why did you take that Adderall?” He changes subjects so fast, I feel as if he dunked me in the cool water.
I tested it with a finger when we first spilled out here, bursting with adrenaline, no more sounds from the stairwell, no phantoms, no devil, despite the hour. It was like pins and needles on my fingerprint.
My skirt is looped over my thighs, to my ankles, legs to my chest. My posture mirrors Eli, but our thoughts are snagging, tangling for dominance.
I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, brushing my piercings, the metal cold in the night.
The valley of fog and rivers and danger is at our backs, beyond the wrought iron gate. I’m glad I got the photos.
I’m glad I didn’t fall. Or jump.The call of the void.
I don’t want to answer it right now.
“Why not?” I counter his question. “Did your mom teach you about Greek mythology?”
His jaw clenches when he hears the third word of my second question. His eyes don’t lift from the pool. I trace the curve of his lips with my gaze, the tilt of his nose. The strong column of his throat, and the choker above the white collar of his shirt.
“Please.” It’s a prayer to someone who doesn’t grant them. I’m a disciple to a god who doesn’t believe in his own existence.
He blinks, long lashes fluttering in a boyish way, I don’t understand how anyone could walk away from him.
I knock my elbow softly against his.
He doesn’t look away from the pool, and I see the blue reflection of it in his eyes.
“Eli.”
“I don’t know how to talk about her.”
The breath leaves my lungs. I wanted the truth. It feels heavier than I thought it would. My mouth is dry, and I think I should say something, to keep him talking, but it turns out, I don’t have to.
