“She’ll carry your marks in her body and her mind forever,” my eyes locked on his, “when she learns you all died screaming, maybe she’ll sleep a little easier.”
Sterling bucks hard, the chains rattling, but Eidolon’s hold is unshakable.
I lift the scalpel, the first cut is slow, delicate, almost tender, just above the lash line. Blood blooms instantly, hot against my fingers as it trails down his cheek. His body jerks, gagged wails vibrating through the air, but I keep going; tracing the curve of his eyelid with cruel precision, keeping it intact, perfect for what comes next.
“Good,” Eidolon murmurs, low enough that it feels like it’s inside me, curling down my spine. “Keep your hand steady.”
I move to the lower lid, the scalpel parting flesh with a wet, sucking sound that rips another shudder out of him. My other hand braces against his jaw, feeling the muscles twitch and seize beneath my palm. The air is thick with the metallic tang of blood, hot and invasive.
Eidolon’s grip tightens in Sterling’s hair, tilting his head back so I can reach deeper. “Now… slide under the muscle,” he instructs, and I obey, the blade slipping behind the orb of his eye, the resistance giving way until Sterling convulses, gagged screams clawing at the air, his feet scraping uselessly across the floor.
A slow, precise pull severs the optic nerve with a sickening snap, and the eyeball slides forward into my palm, slick and trembling in its own fluids.
I hold it up between us, blood dripping in slow drops from my fingers.
Eidolon’s mask tilts slightly. His voice drops to a whisper. “Beautiful.”
The eye is warm in my hand as I cross to the steel table and let it fall onto the plate. It lands with a soft sound, rolling once before settling. Even through the blood, the blue shines almost unnaturally bright, too pure for what it’s seen.
“Ready for the second one?” he asks.
I don’t answer. My body feels locked, my pulse a heavy thud in my throat. I sense him moving closer. Forthe first time, he strips the gloves from his hands, and when his bare fingers touch my shoulder, heat blooms across my skin.
“You okay, hellcat?”
“Yes.” The word barely makes it past my lips. “I just wish I was there when they—”
The thought dies in my throat.
“If you were, you’d be a victim too,” he says, his voice rough velvet, “and they wouldn’t have left you both alive.” His fingertips draw slow, warm circles just below my neck, each one stealing more of my breath.
“Do you want me to finish it?” he asks gently, softly, and I hide the tear that falls from my eye.
I turn to face him. “No. I want to do it.”
I smile faintly and reach for his mask, not to strip it away, but to grip it, dragging him closer. I press my lips to where his should be beneath the fabric, the cloth soft and warm from his breath.
“Tamsin,” he murmurs.
“Eidolon,” I breathe back, my forehead resting against his.
“Eiden.”
My breath stutters and my gaze locks on the mask. “Eiden.”
He nods once, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, holding me there.
“Finish him,” he says, amusement curling at his words, “so I can make you finish on my tongue.”
Heat coils low in my stomach, I bite my bottom lip, and in that moment, I want him. Not just his mouth, but the full, brutal weight of him inside me.
I turn back to Sterling, his chest heaves in shallow bursts, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. The blood from his first missing eye is streaking down one side of his face in dark, wet lines. The gag muffles every sound, but panic roars clear in the single blue eye that’s left, rolling frantically as I move closer.
I pick up the scalpel again, and Eiden shifts behind him, a gloved hand locking into Sterling’s hair and forcing his head back, his fingers prying that last eyelid wide. The eye darts, desperate to follow me.
“Breathe,” he says again.
The first cut traces the upper lid, slow, steady, slicing through skin that quivers beneath the blade. Sterling’s muffled cry vibrates through the gag, hot tears mixing with the blood as it wells along the seam. I take the lower lid next, the scalpel gliding through reluctant flesh until it yields.
