Several feathers caught ablaze and floated down to the ground in front of him. The tangy taste of blood flooded his mouth. His mind hazed over, but he crawled to the wall and clicked his restraints in place.
Better…this way…than giving in to Inanna…
***
Eve rubbed her burning eyes after a sleepless night and tried to do some work the following afternoon. But her concentration was shredded to pieces. Reynner hadn’t come back.
She had no right to question him about his personal life…or the spicy woman.
But thoughts of the latter grew into a cancerous anger with no outlet. Eventually, she slammed down the sheet of metal, wanting to tear the thing apart with her bare hands. Tears crowded her eyes. Why couldn’t he want her? Even a little?
“Are you okay?”
The rare sound of North’s voice jerked her out of her self-pity. She nodded.
Eve gave her attention to the sculpture she’d started, but her heart wasn’t in it as she melted and molded. All that took form was her rage and hurt in the wild twists and furious turns of pewter and steel.
Warmth stole through her and built up like she had a temperature. The sheet of metal she’d abused in her fit of temper lay distorted on the floor. Running out of steam, desperately unhappy, she dropped to the floor on her knees and stared at her hands. The ugly scars crisscrossing her skin and melting into each other ached, while intense heat radiated through her body. One she didn’t understand.
She clenched and unclenched her fingers. What was wrong with her? It felt as if she were on fire. Eve pushed to her feet and staggered to the sink. Holding her hands under the cold water, she struggled to calm down. Filling a glass, she drank some…the heat in her hands and her body slowly subsided.
Movement and low voices distracted her. Lucan stood near the doorway. She hadn't been aware North had let him in. He glanced around the place, seeming intrigued by the tall shelves that held all types of metal. Both purchased and scrapyard finds.
North and Lucan held a conversation in their language. The tensed air between them told her that wherever Lucan had been, things weren’t too rosy there. Had he gone to Empyrea?
Thankful she didn’t have to talk to him, Eve headed back to her worktable and flipped through several sketches she’d done for her sculpture of Reynner. Selecting the drawing she liked, she began redefining the lines.
“That’s good.”
Her gaze shot up at the sound of Lucan’s voice. She looked around, only to find that North had disappeared, leaving this glacier in his place.
Oh, joy. Alone with the iceberg. But his clipped praise shocked her.
“We need to talk.”
Now that wasn’t a surprise. “About what?”
His eyes gleamed. Amusement? No, it had to be irritation at her snarly tone.
“In a minute.” His gaze dropped to her hands. “How did you get those scars?”
Her fingers tightened around her pencil, and she stifled the urge to hide her hands. Instead, she started another drawing. “What’s it to you?”
“Enlighten me.” An order.
He probably never uttered the word,please. Scowling, she told him. “Ten years ago, I was involved in a car accident. I tried to drag my dead parents from a burning wreck—hysterical kids tend to do that, with the illusion we can save them and no thoughts to safety.”
He didn’t respond to her caustic account of the tragedy. His silent scrutiny hauled her out of her anger, making her uneasy. In a sugary-sweet tone full of bite, she asked, “Is that all?”
“What caused the accident?”
Apparently not.
“At fifteen, I was more interested in texting my friends than how my dad drove. They said he swerved to avoid a jaywalker, maybe another car—the damn Easter bunny, I don’t remember.”
She tore off a sheet, crumpled it in frustration, and tossed it with the pile on her table.
“Where?”
