Page 24 of A Shadow in the Reaping
"Good."
We stand unmoving for a long moment. I only notice now that my hands are curled around Ashen's wrists. His palms are still warm on my skin. His thumbs coast beneath my eyes and sweep the last of my tears away. I'm thinking makeup was a stupid idea after all. For some reason I don't delight in the fact that half of it is probably on Ashen's shirt.
"Do not go anywhere here without me. Ediye was right when she said you are not meant for this realm. It is a dangerous place," he says.His eyes flow across the contours of my face. “You are a bright soul here. You shine like a beacon, and everything here can see it.”
I feel like layers are missing when I look into Ashen's eyes. I find fear in them, buried deep. I'm not sure what it's for, but I know I'm not meant to see.
I nod. I give a faint smile.
Ashen takes a deep breath. His eyes linger on my mouth for a heartbeat too long, and then his palms lift from my skin. My hands fall from his wrists, back to my sides. He takes a step away and the smoke around us dissolves into air.
"Welcome to the Shadow Realm."
Chapter 13
It's like you know the real world is there, behind a veil of shadow. You can feel it. You sense its presence. And every moment you spend in the Shadow Realm makes you wonder which world is truly real. You start to wonder if this is where you're meant to be.
It's really fucking weird.
Also weird:feelings. I'm feeling a lot of... feelings.
Firstly, though the panic is passing, I still feel its residue in my head. My thoughts are coated in it, clouded with it. And speaking of coated, my face. It's probably smeared with makeup but I can't really pull out a mirror and touch things up, you know? Also on the list of things that are coated: Ashen's shirt. I'm pretty sure I've left behind mascara and probably snot and definitely tears when I ugly cried into his chest.
Which leads me to embarrassment. I intended to come here all badass, like 'I'll burn you motherfuckers to the ground,' which was frankly an oversight on my part since Reapers are really into fire. So I guess I might... drown them? In my tears? ...Fuck. That is just so fucking lame.
Speaking of Reapers... and feelings...
...
......
What the fuck is wrong with me.
I glance up at Ashen, who is looking straight ahead at the grand hall that stretches before us. I don't know what to make of the man I just saw, the man that led me through the smoke and into the fire. I think about the heat of his arm sliding across my back. I hear the reassurance of his voice in my mind.Just like diving into deep water.
The desire to take his hand is almost overwhelming. Instead, I reach over and tap his jacket where my journal and pen are hidden. He looks down at me and then the jacket, pulling my possessions from his pocket to hand them to me.
Thank you for what you did,I write, and show it to him.
Ashen gives a single nod. The fire has gone from his eyes, but the tension still ticks in his jaw.
I pass him my journal again.I'm sorry I fanged your butter.
"No, you're not," he says. His eyes seem to dance with light.
I can feel my smile growing, though I try to hide it as I scrawl out another note.You're right. It was great. Your face was worth it. I meant what I said, too.
"About what, putting it down your pants next time?"
Yeah.
Ashen gives a half smile as his eyes fuse with mine. It feels like a key that fits a lock that hasn't been turned in a long time. "I know. I have no doubts about that," he says.
I pull my gaze from his to look at the palatial space around us. Smooth, polished stone pillars the color of dark bronze with seams of shining minerals ascend above us, framing a long and empty room. There's no decoration, no art or vases. Just the glint of color within the stone, and I think I could look at those pillars every day for eternity and always find something new.
Ashen is still looking down at me when footsteps echo from the other end of the room. We turn our gazes toward a woman whose heels click on the polished stone floor. Her beauty steals the breath from my chest. No mortal would think she belongs in their realm. She wears a fitted black dress that cuts just below the knee, the neckline scooping low on her breastbone to reveal the geometric face of a jackal identical to Ashen's. Tattoos of black honeycomb and birds flow upward to her neck, disappearing beneath the long sleeves of her dress. Her dark hair falls in a neat braid over her shoulder and her eyes dance in a smile as they home in on Ashen.
I feel a sudden surge of something hot beneath my collarbones. I don't know what it is, but I don't like it. Ashen takes a step forward, his shoulder enough of a barrier between us to send a message. A message the woman receives, because her eyes immediately find mine.
