Page 39 of The Flesh Remembers
I love James desperately, but my doubts grow each day. The man we brought back is no longer the man he was. As shadows close in and whispers linger, I cannot help but wonder: How much of my soul will I lose before this is over?
A Wonderous, Sacred Depravity
Glass exploded somewhere down the hall, and James recoiled as though struck, his snarl filling the air. He stepped back, his movements jerky, his gaze flickering with confusion. She thought he might stay for a moment, but then he turned and vanished into the shadows, his departure eerily silent despite his haste.
Eleanor’s legs gave out, and she sank to the floor, her mind reeling. The image of him, raw, desperate, and inhuman, was seared into her memory. And yet, beneath the horror, there was an ache, a longing, that she couldn’t deny.
She had seen the man beneath the beast, even for a fleeting moment. And she would see him again.
The clinic was like a mausoleum, shrouded in midnight silence save for the occasional creak of old beams and the sharp clink of metal. Lord Blackwood had purchased the mansion and the estate it sat upon a few years prior. Blackwood had purchased the property reasonably due to his connections and the fact that the family selling the estate desperately needed the money. Blackwood knew it would be the perfect location for their work. It was called The Fairfax Blackwood Clinic, but they saw no patients and had a minimal staff. Rumours swirled about the place throughout the neighbourhood, but no one could say what happened there. They wouldn’t believe it, even if they did know.
At the heart of its many winding halls, a new stage of torment was unfolding in a chamber that had once been used for surgical experiments. The room reeked of damp stone, iron, and something sharp and bitter which hung heavy in the air.
Several days had passed since the incident in the attic, and since that day, James had become more unpredictable and seemingly more unlike his former dear self. For now, James was contained, or so they thought. His feral nightly prowls had become too dangerous, too intimate, leaving staff trembling with equal parts terror and something far less pure. Some bore bruises where his grip had tightened too eagerly; others awoke drenched in fevered dreams of his glowing eyes and electrifying presence. The effect he had on the entire staff was immediate and intense. Much like Marian had experienced, proximity to James appeared to loosen inhibitions and heighten amorous passions.
Now, the man who had once been Eleanor’s lover and friend was strapped to a repurposed medical table, its leather-bound cuffs replaced with an array of gleaming restraints
Heavy iron cuffs circled his wrists and ankles, lined with spikes that bit into his undead flesh with every movement. Thin silver chains, a precaution added by Blackwood, meantto subdue his necromantic strength, wove over his chest and thighs, anchoring him to the table in a web of cruel design.
He snarled and thrashed, the sound guttural and animalistic, a challenge to his captors and a warning to anyone who dared come closer. Yet beneath the raw aggression was an unmistakable desperation, his glowing eyes darting to the doorway every few moments. He was waiting for her, desperate for even just the sight of her.
Heavy iron cuffs circled his wrists and ankles, lined with spikes that bit into his undead flesh with every movement. Thin silver chains, a precaution added by Blackwood, meantto subdue his necromantic strength, wove over his chest and thighs, anchoring him to the table in a web of cruel design.
He snarled and thrashed, the sound guttural and animalistic, a challenge to his captors and a warning to anyone who dared come closer. Yet beneath the raw aggression was an unmistakable desperation, his glowing eyes darting to the doorway every few moments. He was waiting for her, desperate for even just the sight of her.
Eleanor hovered just outside the doorway, her breath shallow and uneven. Seeing him this way, bound and struggling, struck a deep chord of anguish, and something darker she was too ashamed to name. The leather cord of her cloak was clenched tightly in her fingers, as though she could anchor herself against the vortex of emotions threatening to consume her.
Dr. Fairfax, flanked by two attendants, worked to tighten the restraints, and each movement met with renewed resistance. James let out a guttural growl, arching his back and snapping his teeth at the nearest attendant. A manacle slipped for half a moment, and his hand shot out like a striking serpent, grabbing the assistant’s throat before being wrenched back by the iron chain. The attendant stumbled away, coughing, and James’s lips curled into something between a grin and a snarl.
“You see what we’re dealing with,” Fairfax muttered, his voice trembling as he secured the final chain. “This is no longer the man you remember, Dr. Ashcroft. Whatever spark of humanity remains buried under… this.” He gestured helplessly to the bound figure, whose chest heaved with shallow, unnatural breaths.
But Eleanor didn’t see a monster. She saw the man she loved, twisted and broken, yearning for something he couldn’t name. Her heart clenched, and she stepped forward before her courage could falter.
As soon as James saw her, his thrashing ceased. His head turned sharply, the glow of his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that stole her breath. The chains groaned as he pulled against them, not in anger but in a desperate, magnetic pull toward her.
“Eleanor,” he rasped, her name a fractured plea on his lips.
Her legs felt weak, and she gripped the table's edge for support, the cold metal biting into her palms. She took another tentative step forward, her voice barely above a whisper. “James… I’m here.”
His response was immediate and visceral. The chains rattled violently as he surged forward, his body straining against the restraints with raw, inhuman strength. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and a guttural sound escaped him, a noise that was neither fully human nor beastly but something raw, and primal but also desperately sad and full of need..
Eleanor swallowed against the knot in her throat, her pulse thrumming like a restless current in her ears. She could feel his gaze raking over her, devouring her every movement, his desperation tangling with something darker, more carnal.
“You’re hurting yourself,” she said, her voice trembling as she reached out to touch his arm.
The moment her fingers brushed his skin, James froze. His body shuddered under her touch, a ripple of tension and electricity coursing through him. His head tilted back, and a ragged groan escaped his lips, filled with anguish and something dangerously close to pleasure.
“Eleanor,” he growled again, his voice thick with desperation. “Untie me. I need” His words broke off in a guttural snarl, his head snapping forward, eyes blazing with hunger.
The restraints bit into his flesh as he shifted, the silver chains leaving faint scorch marks where they touched his skin. Yet he seemed almost oblivious to the pain, focusing entirely on Eleanor. Her trembling hand slid to his chest, where the chains crossed over his sternum, pressing into his cold, heaving body.
“James, I can’t…” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “I can’t let you hurt anyone else.”
He pulled against the chains, a low growl vibrating in his throat. “I don’t want them. I want you.”
The words sent a shiver through her, her body betraying her with a flush of heat that spread like wildfire. She stepped closer, leaning over James, her breath mingling with his as her fingers brushed his cheek.
“You have me,” she murmured.
