“I wonder,” the man in the chairspeaks. “Does asking that question so often to someone ever get…old?”
An unusual feeling of interest ignites in my chest. His voice.
It’s a rumbling beneath the earth. Wise and powerful.
That voice, so deep and silky. If a bottle of bourbon could talk, this is what it would sound like. I’m repeating his question in my head like a broken record. That voice is simplyunforgettable.
“Absolutely,” she says. “Your inconsistent communication is taxing for me.”
“I wasn’t talking about me,” he states, a little raspy at the end. “I was referring to your unfaithful husband, Nathanial.” The smile in his voice does not go unnoticed.
I blink, and Suseas’s cheeks turn an unflattering shade of maroon.
“Deflection.” She raises her eyebrows like she isn’t impressed. “You’re becoming a tad bit predictable.”
At that, he chuckles calmly. “I suppose you are right. But even if an outcome was predicted, would it matter to you, Suseas? Infidelity is already a touch of messy business… Especially when committed with a conformist here.” His accusation haunts the room.
“Enough,” she mutters angrily.
“Did I strike a nerve?Splendid. Tell me, which one of your bloodthirsty, torture-skilled, anorexic, corpse-shaped conformists did not show up to the asylum today?”
Suseas straightens her spine. “Why?” And she takes the bait.
They stare in silence. Suseas mentally examining his notions.
Suddenly Suseas stabs me in the face with her panicking eyes. Mortified and humiliated by what he has said.
“Are you going to leave her waiting in the doorway, Suseas? Or are you going to introduce us?”
It isn’t until Suseas’s glassy eyes flash up to meet my own that I pick up on who he’s referring to.Me. He wants to meet me.
I step forward and walk slowly to the seat in front of him. My knees are quivering as if they’re made from eggshells. I can’t stop imagining what he might look like, even though I’m a single moment away from looking upon his face.
I turn to him.
Time, like a child slipping on a spill, falls backward—knocking the air from my chest.
His face makes my imagination look austere.
He has a face that doesn’t seem to belong anywhere, like a gem in the rough from another world. Perhaps from another time, another era of gentlemen. Immediately, I’m forced to redefine what I thought was once handsome.Ajaw of stubble and a defining line that could cut through a hand that tries to caress it. Skin smooth with a light shade of bronze. Highly perched cheekbones and evenly proportioned, dark eyebrows.
But it’s his eyes—his eyes I cannot break away from. I thought I’d be paralyzed with fear. I thought his eyes would slice into me and leave me cold to the touch. Make me realize I was in way over my head, that not everyone can be saved.
But I was wrong.
They’re a mixture of melted caramel and chocolate. How can anyone so dangerous have eyes so sweet? The same shadows that every patient develops after years in captivity. Looking directly into them is stepping into the ocean, submerged by the weight of an anchor until you touch the bottom—or looking into a sunset for long enough that your eyes start to water and you see bright spots across your vision.
I cannot help but feel welcome, feel safe sitting this close to him. A camouflaged intuition tells me he won’t hurt me. But of course, that’s absurd, and even I can see through that misleading trick.
Then Suseas’s throat bobs, her chest moving at the pace of a heartbeat. And I remember that this is the appropriate response. Fear. Discomfort. Stress.
“Patient Thirteen, this is Miss Ambrose, our newest conformist.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me, not even to acknowledge Suseas’s introduction.
“Skylenna,” he says, voice like satin and woodsmoke. There is something all-knowing in the warm grip of his gaze.“You certainly took your time getting here, hmm?” He narrows his eyes as if to confirm my suspicion that he knows—heknowsthat this has been my goal.
Without a moment to gather my response, I lean off the edge of my seat and grab his hand in mine. I shake his hand, rattling the chains that bind his hands to his feet. His eyes widen, and his grip tightens. Warmth curls into my fingers, permeating from his skin. A sudden euphoria trickles into my nerves. Energy pulsing through my hand and up my arm.
