Page 31 of Rising from the Depths

Eva glared at him. “Maybe I’m just trying to get to know you, to understand you!” She pressed her lips together and took a slow, steadying breath. “You make it really difficult.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but his lips parted briefly as though in surprise. He regained his composure quickly and pointed to her bowl. “Eat.”

She met his gaze and held it. “Make me.”

Kronus set aside his knife and the carving and pushed himself toward the bed. His approach halted only when the door opened.

Aymee stepped inside carrying a large basket in her arms. Her eyes flicked between Kronus and Eva several times before dropping to the pile of wood shavings on the floor. She scowled. “Damnit, Kronus, I told you not to do that in here!”

“You act as though your people did not invent brooms,” Kronus snapped.

“Then learn to use one!”

He extended a tentacle toward the pile, keeping his gaze locked with Aymee’s.

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare.”

The end of his tentacle curled and drew back from the pile slightly — not a retreat, but the wind-up for a swing.

“Kronus, I swear, if you—”

His tentacle swept forward, scattering the wood shavings across a half-meter long portion of the floor.

Aymee’s growl of frustration was drowned out by a burst of laughter; though Eva struggled to contain it, she only laughed harder the more she fought. Tears welled in her eyes, her chest ached, and Kronus and Aymee stared at her in shock, but it feltgood.

Her laughter soon died down as she caught her breath and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Okay then,” Aymee said, clearing her throat and battling away her smile before she looked at Kronus. “You’re still cleaning it up.”

“Fine,” Kronus replied. His golden eyes didn’t move away from Eva; they shone with a new light, one she hadn’t seen before.

Aymee stepped farther into the room and set the basket onto the counter. All mirth slipped away from her features, and she winced as she spoke. “Blake came by today.”

Eva’s smile fled, and her heart thumped hard in her chest.

“Why did you not tell me? I would gladly have cast him out,” Kronus grumbled.

“He didn’t stay long. He wanted…” Aymee glanced at the basket. “He brought your belongings, Eva.”

Eva stared at the basket silently.

So that was it. Everything she owned tucked away neatly in a basket, as easily cast aside as she had been. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears. The humor she’d experienced a moment before made this hurt even more.

Aymee sighed, glanced at Kronus with an arched a brow, and looked back to Eva. “I will be outside if you need me.” She closed the door quietly behind her once she’d slipped out of the room.

Eva’s attention returned to the basket, which was reduced to a brown blur through her welling tears.

“How does this make you feel?” Kronus asked in a menacingly low voice.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, pushing aside the food tray and the half-eaten stew. She didn’t owe Kronus anything. She’d never asked for him to be here.

Kronus inserted himself between Eva and the basket. His skin was scintillating with shades of red as he grasped the bedrail and leaned closer to her. “How do you feel, human? Sorry for yourself? Sad?”

Eva drew back and glared at him. “Leave me alone, Kronus.”

“Did you lose your leg or your spine? You are pathetic,” he sneered.

Her hand flew up and connected with his cheek before she even registered its movement. The crack of flesh meeting flesh resounded through the room, and his head snapped to the side with the force. Her palm stung from the impact.

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