Page 45 of Sanctuary of the Shadow
Chapter Ten
Raith lay atop the blankets, listening to Harrow’s soft breathing, watching her chest rise and fall as her sweet lavender scent filled his head and clouded his thoughts. He waited in perfect stillness until her breaths deepened to the pace of sleep and then rolled over and sat up.
He would not rest while she lay defenseless. He should never have allowed her to free him from that cage, let alone followed her here.
But he had. So he would protect her.
He climbed to his feet and looked around. The room was dark, but his eyesight was good, and he could still see nearly perfectly.
His gaze was drawn back to Harrow as if she were all that existed in the world. She slept on her side still facing where he had lain, her arm stretched over the blankets as if reaching for him. Her nightgown was sleeveless, and he drank in the sight of her bared skin on the white sheets. Her hair was like a midnight storm, all curls and chaos, strewn across the pillow like billowing clouds.
He wanted to go back to the bed and slide beneath the blankets beside her, to hold her against him and breathe her scent until it was the only thing he knew.
Admitting that desire gave way to another. He wanted to kiss her again, to touch her bare skin, taste her—
Not right.He felt unclean, unworthy, and he thought he knew why.
He couldn’t forget the look of horror on Harrow’s face when she’d stopped him from killing Loren. Eliminating the human had felt as natural as instinct, and yet Harrow had been appalled. What did that say about him?
Whoever he was, whatever he was, he feared it was something ugly. He feared his presence in Harrow’s life would taint it in some way. But what could he do? It was too late to return to his cage. Because of his weakness and strange, unquenchable desire to be close to her, he had endangered her.
He couldn’t undo that mistake, nor could he procure for Harrow the life he wished her to have, but he could be her guardian. He could protect her at any cost to his body, mind, or pride until the moment he drew his last breath.
It was a small price to pay for what she’d given him, a nameless creature with no past or purpose.
The void of that forgotten past hung over him like a shadow, and his skin itched with the urge to crawl out of it. He had come from somewhere. He had done things. And the more he looked at himself, at his instincts and urges, the more he started to hope he never had to remember.
Maybe this could be a fresh start. Maybe he could use his new life to be a protector for Harrow and leave the past behind him, where it belonged.
Physical cleanliness was a good place to begin, he decided, so he moved silently away from the bed, lifted the heavy bucket of water, and ducked behind the curtain into the washing area.
There was a small wooden bathtub, a floor-length mirror, and two towels. He found a bar of soap on the shelf beside the towels of such a gritty, rough texture he thought it might be for laundry. He didn’t care. He scrubbed every inch of himself until his skin burned, trying not to think about the inky shadows that skin could become and the fear and hatred he’d inspired in others because of it.
Using the cup provided, he scooped water out of the bucket to rinse off and then climbed out of the tub, wrapping one of the towels around his hips. Reaching for his clothes, he froze when he caught sight of himself in the mirror.
He tensed, turning slowly to face his reflection. Dim moonlight shone through the curtain—enough for him to see by. For the first time in his memory, he saw what he looked like.
And he finally understood why people were afraid of him.
His eyes were…black.
Everywhere, except for the thin rings of his irises, which were swirling orange like fire. No one else he’d seen had eyes like that.
He stared at the mirror, and those eyes stared right back at him. He could change his skin, hide his wings, and sheath his claws, but his eyes would always tell the truth.
He was a monster.
…
Harrow had fallen into a dream as soon as sleep took her. She was swimming through the turquoise waters in peace before the urge to make a decision took over, just like the last time. This time, however, she chose to dive easily, swimming down with defiant confidence like she knew the dangers of the deep and dared them to frighten her.
But once she was fully surrounded by blackness, that confidence seemed miles away. Still, she fought to retain her calm, focusing on understanding what she was seeing. Well,nothingwas what she was seeing. Nothing but blackness. Still, she kept swimming downward, believing there had to be some meaning to this, some end approaching.
And then it came. A tiny orange light, flickering like a candle flame.
Excitement coursing through her, she swam harder, desperate to see what it was. As she approached, she realized it wasn’t one light, but two.
Two candle flames burning in the dark.
