Page 183 of Pareidolia

Maybe it’s just that I was born in this house by Duskfen Forest and made to fit a monster—all those empty spaces where things like guilt and a conscience were meant to be had been left empty from the start, a place for Nox’s shadows to live.

“Fuck… save it for the books, Aspen.”

I’ve felt more creative since meeting Nox than I have in my entire life. Everything since Nox has been different. Better.

Even if he is going to make it really fucking hard to hold down a job while I work on making my books something that can support me.

Maybe if I phrase it to him that way, that leaving me alone now will mean I can stay inside with him all the time later?

I turn, actually remembering to lock my door this time as I leave, but stop before I’ve stepped from beneath my porch awning.

There’s a figure standing at the end of my driveway, and for a second I wonder if Nox already managed to get rid of the body and he’s standing there in human form. If that’s the case, I’m going to have to actually try to run away if I want to get to work today…

There’s something to be said for letting him drag me back into the house and calling out sick one more time.

One more day wouldn’t hurt anything, right?

But as the man steps around my van and his hood falls down, I realize it isn’t Nox.

“Noah?”

He still looks like shit. I think if I could feel guilty about anything, it would be whatever the fuck is happening to him. Nox really fucked him up and it isn’t even his fault.

Looking at it from an outside perspective, I’m dressing like I have something to hide and a giant, hot, muscle-bound god of a man showed up in the library to drag me away. It’s no wonder he was worried about me.

“Did you need something?” I call out, wondering if I have time to play nice before Nox gets here. If he catches me talking to Noah again, he’ll probably pull his tongue out or something. I pause at the thought—I’ve never written a scene where something like that happened. I don’t even know what it would look like or how long a person would live.

Maybe I could ask Nox?

While I’m thinking about it, Noah starts down the driveway, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders trembling. Fuck, this is going to be a problem—whatever’s wrong with him, I don’t have the time or desire to deal with it.

“Alex.” His voice is soft, strained, in pain as he steps in front of me and stops, leaving no personal space between us.

Fuck. He’s going to get himself killed and we’re going to have to leave Duskfen.

“Noah, what are you…” I trail off, glancing down at my stomach. Noah’s hand is trembling and slowly covering in red…

Red?

Oh… my blood.

“Let me help,” he whispers, twisting his wrist… not his wrist.

A blade. A knife.

Nox has ripped me open a dozen times now, his claws and teeth sinking deep enough to tear… but the knife Noah has—my knife that I couldn't find this morning…

“It hurts,” I whisper. When I glance up, I can see how wrong he really looks—his tan skin is pallid, and his eyes…

His sweet, dark eyes are ringed with red. With white. With black.

With the colors of the creature that obviously stole his mind.

“Shhhh,” he murmurs, and the red in his eyes flashes. “Over soon.”

“Fuck.” My body slumps forward in numbed shock, and Noah catches me against his chest. His fingers spasm at the small of my back, and he twists the blade as he drags me across my driveway and to the open door of his house.

He’s muttering under his breath, almost too fast for me to catch it.