Page 101 of Of Wind and Terror

I can’t imagine ever willingly leaving my little beast. But maybe Treyton’s trauma goes deeper than I could’ve imagined. He forces a smile daily, but how often is that smile a mask designed to shut out the rest of the world? To hide his true feelings and the deep hurt I see emanating from his eyes?

“Wake. The. Fuck. Up.” I continue to press down on his chest.

If I happen to break a rib or two, can you blame me? It’s the least the bastard deserves.

Desperation wars with anger deep in my chest.

He better wake up.

I refuse to bring his dead body back to my little beast.

Fuck him.

Fuck him to the deepest pits of?—

His eyes snap open, and he begins to cough, the noise raspy and full of pain.

I fall back on my haunches as Treyton curls in on himself, coughing and crying, silent tears running down his cheeks.

I brush a hand down my face as I debate my next words, but all I can settle on is a simple, “Why?”

Why would he do this to himself?

Why would he leave Kassandra? I know her. She may act like she hates him, but I’ve seen the way her expression softens whenever they’re together. The way her eyes glow and a budding smile blossoms on her face. My female doesn’t hold any darkness inside of her, only light.

Treyton doesn’t answer as he continues to shake and sob. I don’t comfort him, but I also don’t pull away. I just sit there, waiting, watching, thinking.

“I didn’t…” His words descend into a coughing fit. “I didn’t mean to. The music…”

“What music?” Has he lost too much oxygen? I read about that before. Does he need to be brought to a healer?

I suddenly wished I paid more attention all those times I was trained to be a battle medic. Those classes would’ve certainly come in handy right about now.

“You didn’t hear the music?” He turns towards me, his face pale, his eyes rimmed in red.

The abrasions on his neck remind me of a ruby necklace against his tan skin.

“What fucking music?” I repeat.

“I heard music…” He begins to cough again.

I reach into my pack, grab a canteen of water, and pass it to him. He takes it eagerly and swallows mouthful after mouthful, a grimace of pain distorting his face with each swallow.

“Careful,” I say gruffly, frowning.

He hands me back the empty canteen with a muttered, “Thanks.”

And then silence stretches between us, accompanied by an acrimonious tension that has me gritting my teeth together.

When I feel as if I’m going to explode, I manage to bite out, “Explain yourself.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Treyton wipes at his cheeks. “I heard the music… And then I heard the voices…”

“The voices?”

“They were talking to me. No…screaming at me would be a better descriptor. I don’t know what came over me. I just knew that I needed to do what they instructed me to do.”

A ripple of unease rushes through me, and I study the Forest with newfound intensity. I’ve always known that the Forest of the Damned housed monsters of untold origin, but this is something else entirely.

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