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This darkened my mind with all kinds of horrors.
One moment, my breasts swelled with need. The next, I wanted to throw myself out the window. One breath, I was wet. The next, I couldn’t even touch myself without being utterly repulsed. Polar opposites—love and hate, bliss and despair. A never-ending merry-go-round of yes and no and life and death and louder, louder, louder!
Clamping my hands over my ears, I tried to block out the cacophony of animals. Barks and trills, snorts and whistles.
Too much.
Too much!
“Ily…” Peter hesitantly stroked my thigh. “It’s okay—”
I had no control over my reaction.
“Don’t touch me!” I yelped, skittering away and curling into a ball.
Make it stop.
Please, please make it stop.
Footfalls thudded on the carpet.
The presence of someone’s energy prickled my hypersensitive skin.
I huddled tighter.
I fell and fell, tumbling and tripping into madness.
Heavy, large hands landed on my shoulders, pulling me upright.
I did my best to cling to sanity.
I froze as my gaze met Henri’s.
And in that crystal clarity as our eyes touched and our spirits forged, I saw him.
Truly saw him.
He might’ve been honest with me.
He might’ve said what lurked inside him.
But hearing was different from seeing and now…I saw.
I saw everything.
Bat wings sprouted from his back, veiny and webby and torn in places as if he’d flown through the gates of hell. His skin darkened and scribed with glowing red runes. Fangs indented his bottom lip as he opened his mouth and spoke things I couldn’t understand.
And his eyes?
The gorgeous grey depths that held such pain, such loneliness, blackened to burning brimstone as he plucked me from the ground and shook me.
Even drunk, he was strong.
Terribly, terrifyingly strong.
I dangled in his hold.
“Ily. Snap out of it.” His nose pressed to mine; I tumbled into his soul. Tumbled and tumbled, deep into his charred and twisted heart full of desperation and restraint, right and wrong, sadist and saint.
