Smoldering fury erases his shock.
“What. The fuck. Iswrongwith you?”
My brows knit. “I’m having a snack?”
The vein in his temple pulses as he glares at the unblessed sacramental wafer pinched between my fingers.
I blink at him, innocent as a lamb. “You’ve been on my ass all week about eating. I’m just taking your advice.”
His fist slams on the counter.
“You’re fucking sick!”
Whistling under my breath, I mutter, “Dude, chill. They're just crackers.”
White knuckles dig into the countertop, his breath hitching on a bitter laugh. “This is funny to you, isn’t it?”
At my blank stare, he scoffs, straightening to his full height. “You’ll do anything for a reaction, good or bad, and you know what that tells me? You’re desperate for attention. It’s fucking sad.”
My molars ache from how hard my jaw clenches.
He backs toward the archway, grimacing in disgust. “So fine, play your games if it means you’ll finally feed yourself.” Then, under his breath, “Fucking demon.”
Running water rushes in my ears.
Demon.
Stings my eyes.
Demon.
Fills my nose.
Demon.
My mouth stretches— a drowned scream.
Demon.
My lungs burn— too much pressure.
Demon.
My head pounds— it’s gonna burst.
Demon.
The hand moves from my skull to my arm.
Gasping, I rip away.
Stumble.
My back slams into something cold and metal: the refrigerator. The present returns to me in pieces. White tile. Dark wood cabinets. Nautical decorations. Our new house. In the kitchen. With…
Sebastian.
He reaches for me?—
