“Can’t find the will to sleep either. I may join you if you light any of that.” She looked up suddenly. “I have an idea for an experiment, if you’ll entertain it.”
“An experiment?” I raised a brow. “I told you we can’t afford to do anything too skewed from what we norm?—”
“It won’t demand any more personnel, just myself! I can do it! The great thing about its design is that it doesn’t require any materials, per se?—”
“Alina!” Phoebe shouted from across the market.
The group was gathering by the entrance, prepared to depart.
“Another time, Edith,” I mumbled, waving her along as we approached to leave.
Even from afar, the palpable flare of fire in Phoebe’s face made her annoyance all too obvious. She wasn’t good at hiding her feelings, and it was obvious from the beginning how she felt about Edith. Though she never acted out toward anyone else. Petulant, at best. But it was a problem best solved back at home.
10
THE CREATURE
Whether or not I wanted to kill her was a question that had been on my mind.
While my heart raced at the thought of finding her again, of holding her in my arms, opposing ideas tainted my thoughts. Thoughts of squeezing her hard within that embrace, hard enough to break her ribs in my grasp. I wanted to crush her bones under my grip. To squeeze her until her heart popped from the pressure and she bled freely into my arms. I have known betrayal, but none as deep as my pariah’s,Alina.
When I found myself pining for her, I wondered about the moments we shared. Had they meant anything to her aside from simple carnal pleasures? I was sure she wondered the same, though I thought we’d had an unspoken bond that assured her of those pestering anxieties. I did not think she meant it when she said she never wanted to see me again. She couldn’t have.
Surely she would come find me once she escaped, once it was safe, I assumed.
But there she was, completely at ease, in no rush to find me, better off than she’d been before.
Of course, I did not expect her to leap into my arms and profess her ever-burning love for me, but I did not expect her to abandon me altogether either. It filled me with indescribable anger that would allow me to burn the world if someone just gave me enough petrol and a matchbook.
The incessant shaking in my hands would not cease. It was an annoying tick I had adopted whenever she haunted me. I was unsure if it was caused by unrest, hunger, or rage. Surely it was all three, considering I was staring ather. The only one who could evoke such a visceral reaction.
There was a seating area by the waterfront. Small, circular tables with equally delicate chairs lined the dock. On warmer days, it was likely a perfect place for tea or lunch. But only one would sit in this Siberian weather to watch something as mundane as frozen water.
Alina sat facing the river, her back to me as I watched from afar. She was studying something off in the distance, faded off somewhere deep in that mind of hers. I could tell because her cigarette had collected ash that had yet to fall, and the cherry had burned out in her neglect.
Her midnight hair was tied in tight braided knots to contain it in a reasonable manner. Her coat was not nearly thick enough for the current weather. Just a humble attire made of black wool. How typical. Always mourning something.
She was alluring in the most wistful ways. Radiant, even.
I wanted to shout at her, make her look at me so I could see those merciless eyes again. The only thing colder than today’s bitter wind would be her gaze. I had forgotten how much I missed it. How much I wanted to see those eyes again, even if they were not looking at me in kind.
All my boiling rage had settled into a steady rolling simmer.
She turned her head to her cigarette, tapping the ash before lighting it again. Her cheeks were more defined, as was her elegantneck. Her eyes did not look as tired as I remembered. If anything, she looked like she spent less time scowling.
Oh, to be the reason for those wicked expressions once more.
My limbs carried me before my mind could wrestle with me.
I approached.
My hand moved out to her, not knowing if it would strangle her or caress her when it reached her fair flesh. I wanted to tangle my fingers in that endless cascade of hair once more, to bend her to my will.
To make her scream for me, or at me, as long as it was only forme.
I could almost smell her.
Feel her.
