Page 86 of Twisting Beauty

Then everything went black.

26

LORCAN

The gardens swallowed her in shadows, the crunch of her footsteps faint over the damp earth.

I trailed close behind her, each stride measured, each breath controlled, savoring the tension strung between us like wire ready to snap.

“Grayyyy…” I called after her.

Her uneven pace faltered, and it sent a pulse of cruel amusement through me.

Run faster, Gray. I want to hear you gasp when I catch you.

My hands itched like they already held her wrists, pinning her down, owning her fear.

But when she vanished into the labyrinth of hedges, the humor drained from me, leaving a coil of tension twisting hard in my gut. My chest tightened as my gaze searched the shadows for her and failed to find her, the game souring.

A scream tore through the night, high, female, and jagged.

My body snapped to it, instincts flooding like fire. I began to run toward it, branches whipping at my arms until I burst into the clearing by the lake’s edge.

Aoife stood at the bank, arms folded, watching the water with a satisfied expression. Her two friends flanked her, one of them chanting under her breath like a rhyme. “Bride for the lake. Bride for the lake.”

My eyes locked on the shimmer in the black water, to the silver and purple fabric, like a drowning lotus flower, to the pale limbs sinking like driftwood. And the silver mask floating away.

Horror gripped me, savage and absolute.

I didn’t think. I just moved. I ripped off my boots, tore away the mask, and dove into the dark lake. The shock of the water slammed over me, ice carving my skin as I plunged through reeds and slime toward her.

Her eyes were closed, her body unmoving, her hair floating about her pale face like she was already a ghost.

Her limbs had tangled into the weeds, a weight dragging her to hell. My muscles burned as I clawed through the tangles, tearing her free, lungs screaming as I hauled her upward.

We broke the surface, her weight dead against me. My lungs heaved fire as I dragged her to shore and lay her on the grass.

Water poured from her hair, her body slack in my arms, a broken doll cast from the tide. Her lips were blue, skin pale and clammy as porcelain left in the frost.

My fingers trembled as I pressed them to her throat.

She had a pulse. But it was barely there.

I lowered my cheek to her mouth, praying for that brush of air.

Nothing. No breath.

Fuck. My chest locked, vision tunneling, rage bleeding into panic.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Gray.”

I pinched her nose and pressed my mouth to hers, breathing into her lungs. Over and over, each breath was a command. Live. Each pause, a plea.

Breathe, Gray. Fucking breathe.

Her chest jerked and she coughed, the most beautiful sound in the world. Water gushed from her lips, her eyes fluttered, and relief slammed into me as I rolled her to her side facing me.

I pressed my wet forehead down to hers, my breath rattling as I whispered, “Don’t do that again.”