Page 29 of Beyond the Cottage

Her knee landed in his groin, and he grunted. He sat, holding her hands above her head as she straddled his lap. “I said—!”

The final word didn’t come out. One of her sleeves had bunched at her elbow, leaving her bare forearm inches from his face, slick with rainwater.

He gaped at it. His lungs stopped working, and he grew lightheaded.

Old burn scars overlaid her skin, but not in random, mottled webs. They swirled in layers of delicate curlicues and twisting vines. A raised pattern of daisies reached the inside of her wrist. They’d faded with time, but Ansel knew that pattern by heart.

His finger had traced it so many times.

“…Gretta?” he exhaled.

She went still. “How do you know my name?”

Rain pelted Ansel’s face as his thoughts spiraled, arranging the fragments into a whole. His intense reaction to her, the sense of familiarity. The irrational desire to protect her.

It shouldn’t be possible, itwasn’tpossible. But his heart knew the truth. It had known for days.

“Answer my question!”

Ansel numbly unbuttoned his cuff. He pushed his sleeve up and turned his forearm out. The same pink curlicues marred his skin, burns from the Eater’s ornate cast-iron oven.

She hesitated as though instinct warned her not to look, and when she finally did, her lips fell open.

Her eyes lifted to his. “Ansel?”

He didn’t move. If he breathed, she might vanish again. Electricity built as they stared at each other, but neither of them spoke.

Lightning cracked, followed by thunder. Rain came down harder.

Gretta cried out.

She flung herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in it. His arms clapped around her. He cradled her head in his elbows, pulling her in tighter, absorbingas much of her as possible, rocking her, inhaling the smell of her hair.

It had never been her dust. He’d reacted toher. His best friend, the only person he ever fucking cherished. He nuzzled her temple, her ear, her jaw, craving her scent deeper in his lungs. He’d given up on finding her so long ago.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, lips grazing her ear. “I can’t believe Jonas found you and not me.”

Gretta’s muscles tightened. She put her hands on his shoulders and reared back.

As he palmed her cheek, brushing it with his thumb, she punched him in the throat.

Chapter 11

He choked, and Gretta scrambled from his lap. She stood over him, shaking, as every part of her that had touched him burned with mortification.

How could she have thrown herself at him? He wasn’t Ansel. This was a misunderstanding, maybe an elaborate fraud. That made the most sense. She couldn’t begin to explain why he’d trick her like this, but she knew he was clever and demented enough to pull it off.

Except, as she looked him over with unblinded eyes, she saw the truth in every line of his wretched face. Even the way he arched in a coughing fit dredged up memories she’d carefully buried. It wasobvious, humiliatingly so. She should have recognized him that first night.

But how could she have known he’d grow up to be this? Ansel had been her ally and protector, her safe place in a horror house. When they’d lay in their cage at night, wondering if they were next to be eaten, he’d hold her until her tears dried, and she’d fall asleep cradled against his skinny chest.

Lab Coat dumped her in another cage. Hecommodifiedher.

How was she supposed to reconcile that?

As Ansel struggled to breathe, Gretta bent over with her hands on her knees.

She couldn’t handle this. There was no way to process it, so she wouldn’t try. All she could do was light everything inside her on fire and bury the ashes, like she had as a girl.

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