Page 88 of Presence

Echo releases his grip on my shoulders, stands up, and walks away. It’s only now that I realize I’m no longer lying in bed. Instead, I’m sprawled on the cold stone floor, right beside the pit where neon cream lights swirl and dance inside. He ate one of those things before.

I pick myself up slowly, furrowing my brows as I realize my hands are completely healed. The slashes from the maze are gone, replaced by smooth, unblemished skin. Not even a single scar remains.

“Echo…?” I call out when he’s only walking further away.

He halts abruptly and spins around to face me, his expression wild and untamed. His black eyes are wide open, and his long dark hair cascades over his tattooed face.

“Stay there,” he says, his voice deeper and more menacing than ever. He’s furious.

“Why are you angry?” I ask, confusion taking me by storm.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he spins on his heel and storms away. Determined, I push myself up and start after him. My legs wobble, but the strength seems to flow through my entire body regardless. I take a few shaky steps, then a few more, each one steadier than the last.

Before I can even think about reaching him, he whirls around like a hurricane and leaps at me with terrifying speed. He lands inches away, and the shock of his sudden appearance sends me stumbling backward. Equally fast, his hand finds my back and steadies me.

“I ordered you to stay,” he growls, his voice reverberating off the stone walls.

I freeze for a moment, but something feels off. I need answers. The pain I just experienced was too intense to brush aside.

“What happened?” I ask again, locking eyes with him. His face is a mask of fury, but beneath the anger, there’s something else—turmoil, confusion, maybe even… fear? No, impossible.

“It’s not your concern,” he hisses, sharp teeth baring.

My heart beats wildly in my chest. His voice is filled with a threat that I feel in my very bones. Except… I don’t know what he’s threatening me with. Tipping my chin high, I plant my palms on his cold chest, and he shudders. He shudders.

“It is. It’s definitely my concern. Tell me,” I pry. Running my hand over his neck, I cup his tattooed face. His skin feels different underneath my fingertips from before. More potent. Charged with power. A bit warmer, too. “I have a right to know.”

He snarls like an animal. Yet, he doesn’t let go of me or he doesn’t shake my hands away from himself.

I have never seen him like this—so overridden with anger and rage. He was always collected and calm in his malice, never impulsive. Now he looks strange, wounded. I don’t want to think about where those feelings come from in him, but the answer pushes itself onto the tip of my tongue anyway.

He’s scared. He really is.

“You almost vanished,” he growls finally. “Your soul… I consumed too much.”

His words are not nice. They are not filled with remorse or apologetic. They’re still ugly and angry. The way he says them could make me believe he’s threatening me again because of how much disgust there is in his tone.

“Death,” I murmur, swallowing hard. His gaze flickers to my lips. I can still feel a weird taste between them—that blend of tastes, like emotions. “I felt it coming. Something stopped it. What did you do?”

My fingertips tickle where I touch him. Something happens to me that I don’t understand. I don’t feel like myself. I don’t feel Echo like I always do. His presence feels different.

“I saved my prey,” he growls, nostrils flaring. He steps back, breaking the contact between us, and the loss of his touch leaves me feeling hollow and cold. “I saved you.”

“Echo… What did you do?” I repeat once more, this time a quiet whisper. His reactions… They don’t sit well with me. I don’t know what he’s so unsure of saying, but it chills my bones. More importantly, it makes something squeeze and pull inside me.

I don’t like the way I’m feeling. Alive, but stirred. Satiated but disappointed. Hungry.

Echo is not happy that I keep asking questions. I see it in the way his sharp teeth grit, and for a fleeting second, I fear he might lash out. His body stiffens, fists clenching tightly at his sides. But then, he turns away, frustration evident as he runs a hand through his midnight-black hair.

It’s such a human gesture that for a moment he looks like the old Echo again. “You’re infuriating me, human,” he mutters, his voice low.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself.“You’re infuriating me, too, demon.”

He turns back to face me. “I fed you a soul.” He blinks. “Human soul, I made you consume one.”

The words hang in the air between us. My breath catches in my throat, and a shiver runs down my spine. A human soul. I consumed a human soul?

“What?” I whisper. “A human soul as in…”

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