Chapter 24 #2
Shadows swirl like smoke through his rippled arms, crossed over his chest. What I thought were tattoos on his fingers now dance with the rest of the shadows beneath his skin.
Agony and longing etch his features as sticky pitch pools at his feet. I’ve never seen his shadows appear like tar; the eerie sludge raises my hackles.
His hands come up, covering his ears, pain contorting his face like he’s fighting his own demons. After a few dragging moments, the pool of pitch melts away, exhaustion hanging heavy on his brows.
He looks so broken. So fragile. One of those broken bits slits it way right between one of my ribs, fracturing through my glacial walls, scraping along my pitiful, misshapen heart. Digging its way in, urging me to comfort him.
He did save my life. But he also managed to be an ass afterwards.
I hesitate. Should I open my door and ask if he’s okay? He hasn’t spoken to me in over a day, since Kissa caught him entrapping me in his shadows.
I do want to ask him about the new tattoo I saw on his neck earlier, but now it appears to be gone. Without thinking, my hand twists the door open.
“You should be sleeping.” His smoky voice is right by my ear, although he’s still leaning against the wall on the other side of the small hallway.
“You should also be sleeping,” I parrot.
“The monsters in my head make it hard to sleep some nights.” His voice fades, distant and gravelly. I look down, kicking the tip of my boot against the floor.
I understand those nightmares all too well.
“I have those monsters, too,” I admit quietly.
He takes a large stride towards me, closing the gap between us. My body heats far too quickly in his closeness. I avoid peering up at his ice white eyes. They have a way of slicing right through me, plucking out the bits I try desperately to hide.
“Yet another thing we have in common.” Again, his voice plays, whispering against my ear, but he hasn’t moved any closer. Smoky shadows swirl around us both, towing an invisible line, as if he’s holding them back from reaching out to me.
“I’m glad to see you’re talking to me again.
I was worried Kissa ripped out your vocal cords, finally.
” I smirk, still not daring to let his eyes whittle right through my walls.
I enjoy watching the smoke move through his skin.
The power beneath my own almost searching for his.
Calling to me. Begging me to let go of my hold on my magic.
S?las is like the kindling, always igniting when he’s near.
“I was talking to you today. You just weren’t listening in the right way,” he rumbles, as if disappointed in me for something I have no clue about.
Rude. I knew I should’ve stayed in my room and left him to fend against his own damn demons.
“Okay, whatever the fuck that means. I’m too tired to play these games with you,” I snap.
“Then rest, Luxsula. I will keep watch,” he whispers softly.
“I don’t need you watching over me. I can feel the powerful magic you and Gearin have cast upon my door. I’m safe in there, at least,” I retort.
I look up at him to find an arched eyebrow above arctic eyes storming with shadows.
He stares into me, as if he’s looking for something.
Or perhaps waiting for something. The intimacy of his gaze settles into my bones, thawing their ice into a steady stream, trickling onto my heart like life can grow there.
I can’t bear this silent heat he’s melting me in, so I finally ask, “Why do you keep calling me that word I’ve never heard of? You know my name.”
“Exactly. That’s just it; everyone knows your name. This name is mine.”
I’ve never been one to blush really, but I’m suddenly glad at the lack of blood circulating through my body. Hoping the heat in my currently pale cheeks cannot paint them in a rosy hue.
The way that word slips off his lips, I… I don’t mind it. For some reason the thought tightens my chest, like something taking root, trying to grow along my disfigured heart. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or lack of blood, begging me to lie down.
“Are you going to stay out here all night?” I murmur.
“No. I always know where you are,” he says smoothly, as he takes a step forward, leaving a whisper of space between us.
“Alright. That’s not creepy or anything.” I try to force a laugh, but my body has other priorities, craving to lean into him. But I am not going to fall for his lustful tricks again.
My mind wills my body, and I take a step back into my room, still facing him. There’s a solemn sadness to his eyes as he melts away into the shadows of the hallway.
I close the door. Part of me is cursing him for the way he always slips away.
The nipping sensation ripping open the wound of abandonment that has no right being there in the first place.
I walk backwards, too drained to process anything about the mysterious male who continues to taunt me, wound me, in ways he shouldn’t be able to.
Yet I gave him the blade and showed him exactly where to pierce.
I fall onto my bed, wrapping the sheets around me tight, hoping they help hold me together as sleep claims my soul.