Page 52 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
My eyes flinch at the volume.
Locane rushes to the small washroom beneath the stairs. I follow, stopping just outside of the door. He yells the curse again before the sound of glass smashing.
Locane strides back to me, blood dripping on the floor from his shredded knuckles.
“I’m fine.”
He says it so blandly, dropping all the anger he was just exuding. Dropping any emotion at all—nothing short of detached. I gape at him, open mouthed in terror, as I watch him walk nonchalantly into the kitchen and run his gushing hand under the faucet.
“You are not fine! What the fuck happened to you in the last several hours?”
Every instinct is telling me to run, to leave, but I find myself rooted to the spot unable to move.
“Nothing has happened, Ellya. I am fine. Just a little under the weather, that’s all.”
The laugh crawling up my throat holds a hint of hysteria as I follow him into the kitchen. He’s still standing at the sink, his uninjured hand gripping the edge, knuckles turning white with the strain.
Keeping as much distance between us as I can, I stand on the other side of the island—watching his back. Locane’s moods are always unpredictable, but this one is downright dangerous.
“What, from fucking me with your fingers? You ran off pretty quickly after that.”
“Oh, don’t start with that.”
The edge is back, the blank mask already slipped. His words hit me like a blow to the chest, but there are bigger things at play than my bruised feelings.
“I’m being serious right now. You have had a drastic decline since that happened, and I can’t think of any obvious reason why.”
Locane closes off the flow of water, pushing the handle so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t break off. He turns around and raises his leg, bending it at the knee, and kicks hard at the island. It scrapes across the floor a few inches with a deafening screech of wood against wood. I scream and stumble backwards towards the door.
“Everything has to have a fucking explanation with you!” he roars so loud my eyes flinch.
Tears spring to my eyes, born from terror. But I can’t help myself, I stay where I am. “Why are you so angry?”
He ignores the question and rushes towards me. I cower away, trying to keep the distance between us.
“What? You’re afraid of me, Ellya?” Locane asks with a menacing smile.
He stalks forward another step, but this time I stand my ground. He puts his sickly face in mine and exhales. He no longer has the comforting smell of leather and salt, but now smells like what I can only describe as decay and despair.
“Is that why you think you’re leaving?”
“I’m leaving because you won’t be honest with me,” I tell him defiantly and dash away the lone tear that managed to escape. “You’re using me.”
Locane cackles a cruel laugh and moves closer. He rubs his nose against mine and whispers with reverence, “I fuckingmade you.”
His words hit me hard, slamming into me to increase the crushing weight on my chest. I say back weakly, “You didn’t. I already knew everything I do now before I met you.”
My words lack conviction, and he laughs at my self-doubt.
“You were wandering half-naked for weeks, not knowing who you are or what you can do. I reminded you of what you are. And you need me for what’s ahead. You don’t have the strength to handle this on your own.”
“I’d rather take my chances on my own than continue to listen to you and your lies. I don’t need you.”
Turning on my heel to walk away, Locane grabs my arm, and turns me to whisper in my ear in his gentle, manipulative tone, “I don’t know why I thought gifting you with an orgasm would unwind you enough for you to stop acting like a selfish child.” He gives me a hateful sneer before adding, “You really are such a disappointment.”
I try to shake my arm free, but Locane holds me tight.
“Let me go,” I cry through tears of utter hurt, shame, regret, fear. A mountain of negative emotions rushes over me like an avalanche. He shoves me away, and I lose my footing before falling hard on the floor.
