Page 56 of In Death's Hands
He winces immediately, looking at me pleadingly as he puts a hand at his nape, squeezing tightly. His eyes seem to fight a battle as they drag down my body like a forbidden caress, spreading goose bumps in their path.
I look down at myself, trying to see what is so wrong with my current attire. Aside from it being a few sizes too big, it actually covers most of my body. When I come up with nothing, my eyes narrow at him and I cross my arms over my chest, making the shirt slide just a tad higher on my thighs. His eyes zero in on the bit of skin my gesture uncovered and immediately jump back to mine, his face redder than I’ve ever seen it. The lick of fire along my spine makes me shiver.
Take that off, he growled. I smirk. Unable to help myself, I decide to be reckless. My life is too much of a mess not to allow myself a little bit of fun here and there. I lower my arms, look down at myself and shrug, then fist the bottom of the shirt and pull it up. Slowly. Looking straight into his bulging eyes.
“Shit.”
I bite my lip to keep myself from laughing as he stiffly turns around to face the door, which he quickly slams shut.
I didn’t like the thought of wearing the men’s underwear I also found neatly folded in one of the drawers. So I didn’t. And now I throw the shirt off to the side and stand utterly naked in a room lit by the warm rays of the setting sun, facing Nathan’s back and looking at his shaking fists.
I choke on a laugh I try to stifle, but it’s impossible to keep down. I laugh like I haven’t for I don’t know how long. I laughlike it’s the only thing I can do to let go of the permanent tension coursing through my veins.
It feels so good.
Nathan seems to relax and starts to turn my way but quickly shakes his head and refocuses on the door. I sober up slightly, breathing the first full breath that has graced my lungs in too long and letting out a long, comforting sigh. I feel more relaxed than I have in ages. “What should I do now, O Mighty Origin?” I tease, but a twinge of hurt passes through my voice and I know he notices when his back tenses up again.
“Give me a second,” he says, his voice so thick it rumbles over my skin, leaving goose bumps and unholy thoughts in its tracks.
Trying—and failing—to ignore what his reaction does to me, I open my mouth to tell him exactly what I think about him ordering me around and having the nerve to tell me to wait on top of everything else. But the words die in a terrible explosion of sounds when a shadow appears in the bedroom.
Nathan spins around, his face set and body ready to battle this new threat, but too soon, his eyes are on me, widening, and he turns back around.
I am gaping at him while still eyeing the menacing shadow gliding towards the bed in the corner of the room. It looks like a man made of smoke. Tall, broad shoulders, long legs. And it seems to be ignoring me entirely. “Nathan!” I whisper-shout. “There’s… there’s ashadow.” It sounds more like a question than anything, my own mind wondering what it’s seeing. After everything that has happened and what I’ve learned, I didn’t think I still had it in me to be surprised by anything. Clearly, I was wrong. Fear claws at my throat as I look around for any sort of weapon. I come up with nothing. I’m debating the meritsof jumping out the window naked when I notice a bundle in the shadow’s hands.
I feel my hands shake and fist them, hoping to keep a tight grip on my sanity as well as my body. I don’t understand why Nathan isn’t doing anything; maybe he can’t see the thing that is now gently depositing the bundle on the bed and turning its head towards him. My heart doubles over itself in fear it’s going to attack him, and I wonder again what could protect us against a shapeless menace. I refuse to stand here, naked and useless. I’m going for the lamp when Nathan says, “Stop,” in a soothing voice that seems utterly out of place right now. “He won’t do anything to you.”
Nowthatmakes me stop. Nathan is still facing the door, and the shadow is right next to him. Side by side, they look so similar that the shadow could be his. I freeze.
“I’m sorry, people normally don’t see them, so I didn’t think to warn you.”
What?I think, or maybe say out loud, since Nathan keeps going.
“He brought you some of your clothes. If you put them on, I’ll turn around so I can explain better?”
I scoff. “Will you tell me the truth this time?” I sound bitter. I feel bitter.
He sighs, and I almost feel guilty for being difficult, but no. I’m tired of his half-truths and I deserve to know what’s going on around me. I spent my life feeling unwanted and too scared to make any waves for fear that people wouldn’t want to adopt me, or even befriend me. Turns out they never did anyway. I’m a twenty-four-year-old woman with no one in her life but colleagues. I deserve to claw at any piece of joy I’m able to in this life. I deserve to stand my ground and say exactly what Ifeel. And what I feel is shitty for being lied to. Especially by him, though I don’t want to examinewhyit feels shittier that the lie came from him instead of anyone else.
“I promise to tell you the truth, Liv.” His voice is quiet, but I can feel him being earnest.
“Fine.” I make my way to the bed, an eye firmly set on the shadow-man, feeling like at any moment the thing will jump my way and make me scream hellfire like in any scary movie I never watch because I’m too much of a chicken-shit. I quickly change into what turns out to be my own denim shorts and light blue tank top.
When I’m clothed again, I turn back to Nathan. “Speak.” The temporary amusement is gone. So is the joy from my little stunt. All that is left is hurt that goes deeper than his lies by omission and a shaky, reckless energy coursing just beneath my skin.
He turns around, slowly at first to check I am indeed decent, and then all at once. His onyx eyes bore into mine, and what I see in them, what I recognise, has me taking a shaky breath.
He steps forward but he doesn’t need to. Everything about him draws me in. But I know better than to believe in this. Whatever he may feel right now is surely the result of guilt, and what I feel is definitely not up for discussion.
I’m always the one falling first. And the crash, because itisa crash, hurts. The disappointment of finding myself alone again and again, of having to figure everything out for myself, is something I’ve grown used to. It’s familiar. The way he looks at me isn’t. I’m the one looked over, forgotten. Not bright enough. Not funny or loud enough. I love books but don’t have glasses to complete the look. I can hold my own in sports but have never had the passion to make anything out of it. I can talk to people but never as well as the characters I’m so fond of. Isimply never fit into anyone’s perfect list. I’m not about to fool myself into thinking this time’s different. It never is. That’s why I turned to meaningless pleasure. At least when I leave them in the morning, I’m not expecting anything but an awkward smile.
So I know my look stops him in his tracks. And I convince myself that it’s better this way, despite the kiss we shared.Becauseof the kiss we shared.
He releases a breath that I swear I can feel from across the room. Without a sound, the shadow goes to him and… melts into him.
I find myself gaping again and quickly snap my jaw shut. I will get used to this at some point.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you more, but I didn’t think it mattered that much.”
