Page 89 of Bound By Fury

“Wait—” Panic erupts in my chest. I feel like I’m falling. Plummeting to some unknown depth. A breeze sweeps through the room, though the window is closed.

His eyebrows pull together.

Outside the wind howls a mournful song.

He leans forward, the pads of his fingers tracing my lips and sliding down across the flesh that hides my collarbone. “I know you’ve got secrets, Harper. They’re written all over your face.”

Flinching, I pull away from his touch. “What are you talking about?”

He shakes his head as he stands, lifting me with him before dropping me gently off his lap, the angle casting his face in shadow as he turns his back to me.

“Wait here,” he says. “I’ve got to use the bathroom.”

When the bathroom door clicks behind him, I spring to my feet. I want to yell after him, but what is there to say, really? I know I fucked up. I ruined it.

Restless, I turn the lamp back on, taking in the cabin again. I don’t hear the water running in the sink yet, so I walk to the shelves on the other side of the room and thump my fingers over the spines of the books.

There are texts about Appalachia and cryptid legends, a few leather-bound journals with tasseled bookmarks. I slip one from the shelf and crack it open, the stiff binding creaking softly.

The words are in a language I don’t recognize, all twisted symbols and markings that have no meaning to me. Weird. I slide it back into place.

From the bathroom I hear a flush and then the rushing sound of water against porcelain.

The bottom shelf has a few ceramic vases and trinket dishes for decoration. An intricately carved wooden box with fancy gold-plated corners. Intrigued, I flick the clasp up and lift the top. For some reason my breath is coming quicker now, a vibration thrumming somewhere deep inside me.

There are a few items in the box, small pieces of paper, a fountain pen, a pair of broken glasses, but there, at the top, sitting as if it’s been waiting for me, a delicate opal bracelet. I rub the small iridescent stones between my fingers.

Mine, the voice says. Mine mine mine mine. But that’s not right. I’ve never seen this before. It’s not mine.

Or it wasn’t, until now.

I don’t know what compels me to slip the bracelet into my pocket, but I do it with shaking fingers. As I stand, Lucas swings open the bathroom door.

His eyes flick between me and the shelf. “You ready?” he asks, scratching his chin, his voice somewhere between cold and resigned.

“Um, yeah, sure.”

I cross the room slowly, watching as he drags his gaze to my face.

Seeing the pain in his eyes feels like being stabbed in the chest.

“Are you—I mean—I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s okay.” His palm rests at the base of my spine as he opens the door. “Let me walk you back. I was planning on spending the night here—I do that sometimes. To get away from the noise of the dorms. Perks of being the headmaster’s kid, I guess. But it’s not that far of a walk.”

“No. No, that’s okay. You’ve—you’re great. I can walk back by myself. I have something I need to do anyway…”

He peers down at me, concern breaking through the muddied slog of other, more complicated feelings. “You sure? It’s late. And dark.”

I nod. “I’ve spent enough nights in these woods to know how to get back safely. I appreciate it though.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, Harper, I insist. The woods… they’re not safe at night, you know that.”

I’m certain he’s talking about coyotes and bears and not the woman with bones for hands or the glowing red eyes, and yet I almost dare to ask.

“Lucas… I just, I need to be alone right now. I’m sorry.”

Maybe it’s unfair of me, but I can’t take another moment of looking at his sad ocean eyes. I can’t face the truth of who—what I am reflected back at me.