chapter thirty-one #2
I closed the drawer slowly as I gripped a knife and a syringe, trying to be inconspicuous and not let the thing in my kitchen know I had spotted it. It was extremely hard to walk when you were trying to convince yourself to act inconspicuously and to travel at a calm pace.
Between the pounding in my head and the heartbeat in my ears, there was only so much I could focus on.
Stars appeared in my vision. I could throw up.
I was stuck between being killed by the thing in my house or by the predator who waited for me upstairs, an impossible situation.
It was like I had to pick between butchers.
It was just a matter of which one had the sharper knives.
My steps up the stairs were slow. How fast was a normal pace? Was I moving too slow? Possibly too fast? The shadow moved out of the corner of my eye, looming in the kitchen's entryway. As I ascended, Silas’s figure appeared at the top of the second flight of stairs. I stopped where I was.
“I thought you had run. Turns out you decided to turn into a sloth. Where is that pep in your step from our first encounter? Surely the red stain on the stairs would inspire some quickness to your pace,” he joked, glaring hungrily in my direction.
“I-I don’t remember,” I said shakily. My anxiety was restricting my breath. “You must be thinking of someone else .”
He looked offended at my words. “You mean to tell me that you memorize every binomial nomenclature of every plant, but you don’t remember our first night together? You would make a poor romantic, Alina,” he said cruelly.
How did I let him know without saying anything? I didn’t plan on being slaughtered by either of them today, but he was my best hope between the two.
I smiled shakily. “Silas, my love , please can we settle in for tonight? I am very tired. You must be as well.” I attempted to take a deep breath, but it just turned into a swallow, every word taking precious air from my lungs under the weight of the panic.
Alarms must have been ringing in his head, his cold demeanor becoming apprehensive.
Out of all the adaptations I wish he had, I would have hoped for some form of telepathy. “We have both had such a long day. Maybe we should spend some time together. Just the two of us.” I broke our eye contact only to shift my gaze toward the kitchen and then back to him.
A shattering noise exploded in the kitchen.
Silas’s eyes flicked toward the sound, then slowly moved back to me. There was no telling what he was thinking, but it could not have been pleasant.
The kitchen was empty when we entered, the remaining pieces of a wineglass scattered across the floor. We didn’t speak, not even a glance in each other’s direction.
The silence was painful. Not a word was said the rest of the night.
Silas would not leave. Ever since that night, he’d been like a leech firmly attached to my side. Not one single moment to myself.
What was worse, not being able to sleep from the fear of the unknown or having my every move openly watched?
For goodness’ sake, he would not even let me bathe without him sitting in the corner.
If it was not for my protests, he would watch me sleep from my bed.
It was like I was a child who could not be left to their own devices.
It was infuriating, and it only made me loathe him more.
Everywhere I went, my hellhound followed.
He gave me space when I interacted with customers at the shop, but that was about the only privacy I was allowed.
I figured he did it to avoid people getting distracted by the celebrity in their midst, but the rumors were already spreading.
He was always with me, so naturally people speculated.
Whenever a new rumor surfaced, I could count on Phoebe to tell me about it over the phone or at the shop.
I was not allowed to see her much either.
Excuses after excuses were made to keep it to phone calls or drop-ins.
“No, I told you nothing’s happened. I’ve been commissioned for something I can’t say,” I lied, hanging close to the telephone on the wall.
Silas was in the corner, glaring out the window, his leg bouncing nervously as I chatted with Phoebe.
“I told you he isn’t any good,” she muttered through the static. “He’s caught up in all sorts of bad business. I don’t care how good the sex is. It isn’t worth it!”
“How would you know?” I jested, though I was curious about her answer.
“Alina! Disgusting! I do not know him like that ! Though we have had some displeasing encounters. I am always the one people complain to when he misbehaves!” she explained. “I never understand why girls keep returning to that he-devil. He is shameless!”
“I get it, I get it.” I looked back at him, his mind lost in that blond head of his. “We should get away to the country this weekend. What do you say?”
Silas’s eyes snapped to me when he heard my words.
“You don’t have to ask me twice!” Phoebe squeaked. “Shall we head to Sussex?”
“Yes, maybe we invite a few people? Have an intimate gathering? Something relaxing and fun,” I said, as if trying to convince Silas that it would be fine and that I would be surrounded by people. Not that I needed his permission, but it was more my way of asking him to keep some distance.
“I’m on it. I’ll ring you in about an hour with the details. I’ll get tickets for the train. Oh, this will be so good for us!” She hung up the phone in all the excitement.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Silas said from the corner.
“Why not? I get away from the city where my other elusive stalker is wandering, with witnesses and an overbearing friend to keep an eye on me. What more could you want?”
“You’re not leaving my sight.”
“You’re not going to stop me,” I countered.
“You know, you make many empty threats. While you have given me a concussion and an interesting collection of bruises from our encounters, you never deliver on your ferocious little fits where you threaten to eat me.” I laughed. “What a poor predator you are.”
“Is this your own suicidal way of telling me that you want me to hurt you?” His brow raised. “I knew that you were insane when I decided to pursue you. I never pegged you for being that kind of maniac.”
“It wasn’t a challenge, but it brings me to my point that you can’t stop me, you won’t stop me, but I trust that you will be in the shadows whether I ask you to leave me alone or not.
” I threw him a sarcastic smile before it dropped.
My head still pounded like it had been the past few weeks, but it was dimming.
I closed my eyes and rubbed my face, turning on my heel to walk away.
“Where are you going?” He tried to move in front of me, but I pushed past him.
“Medicine” was all I muttered, stalking over to the kitchen. “I know that you have some separation anxiety, but you don’t have to follow me everywhere.”
“Clearly I do, my love .” He tossed my words back at me, a toxic edge to his tone.
My shoulders tensed in embarrassment. I did not need reminders.
Clearly, he was amused by my reaction.
Even though it was nighttime again, the town house was brighter than ever. Silas had turned on every gas lamp to leave no corner dark. I thought it was for his own peace of mind rather than mine.
In the kitchen, I rummaged through the cabinet, pulling out a jar of ghost pipe tincture.
They looked like little white flowers despite being a type of mushroom.
They had extremely powerful pain-killing qualities.
I usually made a liquid from them every few years.
To my dismay, there was not even enough to numb a mouse.
Leaning against the counter, I pushed my palms gently into my eye sockets.
Silas came up next to me. “What is it now?”
“Out of medicine.” I sighed, defeated. At this rate, I would never get rid of this perpetual slump. The most ironic part of this was that I hadn’t even consumed a drop of liquor these past few weeks, because of the pain. How unfair.
“Why don’t we try something?” He traced a finger over my shoulder.
“No amount of fondling will cure a migraine,” I said flatly, keeping the pressure on my eyes.
“You’ll never know if you don’t try.” He shrugged. “I meant something else, but maybe we should try that too, to be thorough.”
I pulled my hands from my head to stare at him, raising my brow to ask him to elaborate. He was being obnoxious, but my current state did not allow me the privilege of being picky about remedies.
He touched my chin and lifted it, his lips hovering above mine.
My body flinched at his touch. No matter our history, I could never anticipate whether he would be rough or gentle with me.
It was like a changing wind, unpredictable.
While he might not kill me, I would not put it past him to hurt me if I upset him enough.
The more I learned about what he was willing to do, the more I feared him.
As the fear festered, so did my desire to push him to his limits.
Not my wisest instinct, I must admit. His intentions were something I needed to figure out if I were to manipulate the situation in my favor.
His tongue snaked out of his mouth, and instinctively I pulled away. His grip on my face tightened. “You have a headache, yes? Let me gamble on it.” He smirked, the two split ends of his tongue twitching readily.
Considering his offer would not be the craziest thing I had done thus far.
If anything, it would not hurt to try, though it would leave a bit of a bruise on my ego to give in to such a request. It was not outlandish to think if he could stop me from poisoning myself, he could also cure a phantom migraine. I reluctantly leaned into him.
“Open your mouth for me.” He used his thumb to pull down on my lip.
I hesitantly gave in.
He locked his lips with mine. His hand moved to the back of my head to support it, and he ran his wet tongue over my lips, politely asking for entrance.
I grimaced at the moisture and wiped it off.