Page 38 of The Flesh Remembers
He didn’t stop her gaze from traveling over him, didn’t conceal the raw evidence of his need. If anything, he dared her to look, his presence exuding a dominance that silenced reason and ignited something far more dangerous.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled, the sound more beast than man.
Her legs felt like lead, her body betraying her instinct to flee. “Marian gave me your message,” she whispered, her voice fragile. “I came as soon as I could.”
He stepped toward her, his bare feet silent against the wooden floor. His scent hit her: damp earth, sweat, the sharp scent of electricity, and something darker, almost metallic, like blood. The space between them shrank, and every movement was deliberate and premeditated.
The tension was suffocating when he stopped before her, mere inches away. His hand, still slick and glistening with the evidence of his lustful actions, rose, brushing against her cheek. The touch burned, leaving a phantom trail of heat in its wake.
“Ah, yes, I had forgotten that I had asked Marian to bring you to me. My mind is not…I cannot recall things…sometimes.” James lifted his head, and his eyes seemed to search the heavens for an answer to some silent question that plagued him. His pale blue eyes were bloodshot and tired-looking as they filled with tears. He looked away abruptly.
“This is what I am now,” he rasped, his voice a broken snarl. “A monster. A beast that takes, devours, destroys.”
Her eyes welled with tears, and her chest tightened under the weight of his words. “You’re wrong,” she said, her voice cracking. I see you, James. The real you. You’re still in there.”
James was in the habit of leaving her notes. Notes of all types. Love notes, notes of encouragement, notes of praise, notes of desire. Eleanor would wake each morning to find a note pushed through the letterbox in the front door. She would eagerly race downstairs before she would do anything else to see what sort of note he had left for her that day. It was her favourite moment of each day.
One note was left not long before that awful day in the park. Eleanor wondered what had prompted him to leave it and later wondered if perhaps he hadn’t known somehow that he was not long for this world.
Dearest Ellie,
I’m lying in bed as I write this, knowing I shall see you soon, and it brings such a smile to my face. You are why I rise each morning, and I cannot imagine a life without you. And it is my greatest joy to know that you feel the same.
But please promise me, El, that if anything were to ever happen to me, you would move on with your life. Promise not to try to fix things or wallow in guilt or sadness. I couldn’t bear to think of you unhappy in this life, even if I am no longer here to see it.
I am with you always, even if I no longer exist on this plane. And we will always be together.
Yours forever,
James
Eleanor glanced away from James and quickly wiped the tears filling her eyes. He had asked her to move on without him, and she had denied this wish. Now, he was something far different from what he had been in life. Eleanor felt guilt like a bellows squeezing all the air out of her lungs.
His laughter was sharp and cruel, a jagged edge against her resolve. “What you see,” he snarled, leaning closer, his breath hot against her ear, “is the thing that feeds on your fear. Your desire. You.”
The word hung between them like a noose, tightening around her throat. Her pulse thundered in her veins, and for a moment, she thought she might collapse under the weight of James’s presence.
But she didn’t.
“Then take it,” she said, her voice trembling but defiant. “If that’s what you need, take it. I give it to you of my own free will.”
His eyes burned, their glow intensifying as his lips curled into something between a snarl and a smile. Without warning, he moved, his hand snapping to Eleanor’s arm with inhuman speed and force. She gasped as he spun her, pinning her against the wall. The cold stone bit into her back, but it was nothing compared to his searing heat.
His nose brushed against her long black hair, his breath hot against her neck. When he spoke, his voice was a guttural rasp, dripping with possession. “You don’t understand what you’re offering,” he said, his lips grazing her skin.
Her body quivered, her hands weakly pushing against his chest. “I understand,” she whispered, though her voice betrayed her doubt. Did she truly understand what she was giving to him? Could she accept what he would take from her, what he might turn her into, even if she offered it to him?
He growled low, the sound vibrating through her, igniting a dangerous fire in her core. His lips moved lower, brushing the curve of her neck. His teeth grazed her skin, not enough to break it, but enough to promise pain. Her pulse thrummedbeneath his mouth, and she felt the moment his control wavered.
But the crash shattered everything.
Excerpt from the diary of Dr. Eleanor Ashcroft
James is here, yet he feels so far away. The man I loved was warm and whole, but is now fractured and shadowed. The rituals that brought him back have left scars on us, and I fear what we unleashed may never be undone.
Lord Blackwood watches everything, his calm words masking darker intentions. James, I suspect, is merely a pawn in his grand design, though I cannot yet see the full scope of his plans. The thought chills me. Have I sacrificed too much for this monstrous game?
Marian remains my ally, though she carries her burdens. Tonight, she begged me to forget what happened with James, tears trembling on her cheeks. I agreed, but I worry her shame may drive her away. I cannot lose her. I need her strength as much as she needs mine.
