Chapter 18 #2
I’m on her in an instant, crowding her back into the fake brick.
The second my skin makes contact with hers, everything snaps back into place with a violence that jars my teeth.
The cold vacuum vanishes and the nausea retreats.
We both inhale at the same time—a synchronized, desperate gasp for air that sounds like two drowning things breaking the surface of a frozen lake.
My hand snaps to her jaw, fingers digging into the soft flesh to force her head up.
She flinches, shoulders flying up to guard her ears, her hands snapping up to shield her face as she shrinks away from me, bracing for a physical blow.
I freeze.
Is she bracing for a strike?
I’ve done nothing but pull her from the dark.
I push the confusion aside, instantly uncurling my fingers to soften my approach. I gently cup her jaw instead, my thumbs swiping away the bile.
“I’ve got you. Look at me, Eden.”
Her eyes flutter open, blown wide and shattered with the shock of the separation, but she focuses on my face. She is here. And that hollow, rot-scented ache in my chest is gone.
"I couldn't breathe," she chokes out. "Malachi, it felt like my organs were tearing apart again.”
“I know,” I hiss, pressing my forehead against hers, my own chest heaving as the adrenaline crashes. “It seems the tether between us is entirely literal. So, well... now we fucking know.” I drag in a deep breath of her peaches-and-terror scent. “We definitely can’t be apart.”
She lets out a wet, shaky breath, nodding frantically against my chest.
I lean in, my nose brushing the slope of her neck, inhaling greedily. I need to override the smell of the crowd with her. Sun-warmed peaches and that sour spike of terror. I drag my face up her throat, my mouth hovering inches from the junction where her pulse is fluttering erratically.
The urge to bite down—to puncture the skin and taste the blood just to prove she is solid, to consume her so she can never be lost again—is a physical pain in my jaw. It takes every ounce of my weary restraint not to tear into her right here.
Instead, I press my lips to her temple—hard.
Around us, the electronic screams of the attraction continue to loop—a digitized, tinny agony that mocks the very real, very jagged edges of my current temper.
“This was a disaster,” I growl into the damp hair at her temple, my grip on her tightening until I can feel the delicate bones of her shoulder beneath my hand. “And I am going to burn this entire building to the ground if we aren't out of here in the next three minutes.”
The adrenaline crash hits me the moment we breach the exit, a physical weight that nearly drags me down into the trash-laden concrete.
We stumble from the shit-show of manufactured fear into the midday glare of the fairground, slamming right into a wall of freezing cold air, the high-pitched shrieks of children, and the thick, cloying stench of frying batter.
It’s a sensory assault. A wretched, technicolor nightmare.
I shield my eyes against the icy sun, pulling Eden tighter against my side. This was a mistake. I should have learned my lesson when I left the apartment the first time. The mortal world is just an endurance test of the soul—a marathon of mediocrity designed to grate against my last nerve.
“We are leaving,” I announce, steering her through the crowd with the force of a battering ram. “We are done with the ‘fun.’ We are returning to the hovel immediately.”
She stumbles slightly, trying to keep up with my punishing pace. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. I will summon more sustenance through your delivery service,” I cut her off.
“We are going to seal the door. We will swaddle you again with those absurdly fuzzy blankets until you are immobile.” I glance down at her, seeing the way her hands are still trembling, the way she looks like a gust of wind could knock her over.
“And then, for the sake of stabilization, I shall remain under the blankets as well.”
She looks up at me then, a flicker of genuine surprise cutting through the grey haze of her exhaustion. “You... you want to cuddle?”
I arch a brow, the mask of detachment sliding back into place with practiced ease.
“You have already slept upon me once before, little summoner. Let us not get greedy,” I drawl, looking down my nose at her.
“I meant separate rooms,” I lie through my fangs.
“But either way, we will remain in the sanctuary of your bookshelves until we are forced to leave for your ridiculous therapy session tomorrow morning.”
She blinks, cheeks flushing a faint pink that has nothing to do with the cold air. “You… wait. You remembered the therapy?”
My walking ceases, forcing her to halt with me.
“I am a Torture Administrator, Eden. Focus on the word administrator.” I tap my temple with a finger.
“My entire existence is built on schedules, torment, and efficiency. I am surprisingly good at keeping track of deadlines, even if I loathe the logistics of this realm. So yes, I remembered your appointment.”
I urge her forward again, my hand sliding down to the soft small of her back.
“Now, walk. Before I decide to start eating the clowns.”