Page 152 of What Lies Within Masks & Shadows

Garrik’s body tensed through the tremors. “Stop.” She barely heard his choked whisper. Voice so hollow and raw that the room filled with deep, dark pain.

And darkness reacted. Now stirring, dancing from the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Crawling up the sheets, pulling at his legs and arms, hovering and circulating.

His abdomen became the source of vortices, where tendrils sprouted in an attempt to escape across other parts of his body before being forced to the join the gathering cyclonic turmoil.

Alora lurched upright, twisting onto her knees. On instinct, her hands dared to touch him. In the darkness, they glowed withembers, lighting up his body as it shook again. She laid those hands, one on his chest, the other on his shoulder.

The room … it began to darken.

Another crack of thunder. Louder. Closer.

“Don’t.” This time, a strangled whimper. “No.” Garrik’s voice rose. Violent and brutal, almost wrathful in its tone as his face, the skin, seemed to ripple in the clouded moonlight.

“Wake up!” she cried, shaking his shoulder, stabilizing her hand on his chest.

His heart; it was dangerously slow.

She shook him again.

He only released a pained groan as his knees bent upwards. Arching his back against the blankets, Garrik clawed into the sheets as his face contorted into something terrifying. Something tormented and excruciating and terrible.

Sweat poured down his face, soaking his hair and skin, following the black veins bulging—crawling—from deep inside his tunic, from his heart and up his neck.

Garrik cried out again, the sound more than something terrible. It was infernally torturous. Like he was being ripped apart piece by piece.

Smokeshadows tendriled around her wrists as she fisted his tunic. Shaking him so violently that hehadto wake from it.

“It’s a dream!” Itwasn’ta dream but a starsdamnednightmare. “Wake up,” she screamed, the intent viciously ripping her throat raw in her desperation.

A voice laughed beside them. Someone in the hallway. A female voice. Far away and calling to her pet.

Then a wave of air burst from his body, slamming into her, the walls, the furniture, and shattering the window.

Alora screamed, flying from the bed, feeling the air forced from her lungs when her back rammed into the wall.

Garrik hurled off the bed, his back slammed into the door, cracking the wood as darkness furiously raged around him.

Eyes as black as the night widened, staring at the bed, chest heaving as he blinked. Hands were drawn out to defend an attack, and those same hands began shaking, lifting in front of the darkness receding in eyes as his palms twisted, observing as if it were the first time he had laid eyes on them.

His hands…

They brushed down his body, wrinkling his tunic until his fingers dug into his abdomen.

Slowly those hands traveled to his waistline, tracing over the top of his night pants, hovering there while his eyes squeezed closed, and he choked on a breath.

Then, his head whipped to the window she trembled under. Blinking as he surveyed the room—at what he had done. The dresser, fireplace, chair. All reduced to splinters and rubble and dust.

With the iron taste of her blood filling the room, Alora felt warmth trickle down her arm. Felt the sharp sting and hissed. Only because of the moon’s glow could she see a shard of wood embedded in her arm.

He saw it too.

In an instant, Garrik was by her side. The darkness swirling in the room, returning every broken thing to the way it had been before. In his hand, a towel appeared. Without a word, Garrik pulled her to her feet, settling her on the edge of the bed. Even when he carefully pulled out the shard and pressed the towel to her wound, the silence blanketed them.

His hands … they trembled. His pale face was cascading to a sickly shade of green. “Forgive me,” he exhaled.

But Alora saw his muddy, silver eyes. That enchanting glow snuffed out. Saw the pain that covered them. Shaking her head,she lifted her palm, attempting to touch his cheek as liquid settled low in his eyes.

He was …devastating. The High Prince of Elysian, kneeling in front of her.

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