“Ican’t.”
“You’ve done it a million times before. Trust me, you can.”
The first inhale is so shaky that I think it might shatter my lungs. Then comes another. And another. His lips move with every single one, counting as though needing to assure himself I’m doing it. I’m breathing, despite it all. He holds my gaze, leading me through each breath.
“Eric, I—” But the words knot.
“I know, I know,” he murmurs. “Just listen. All you have to do is breathe. C’mon, give me another one.” I take in another shaky gulp of air. Tears blur my vision, but he wipes it away. “Hold for a few seconds. Out slowly…” The press of his signet ring is grounding, glacial against otherwise inflamed skin.
He doesn’t look away. I watch the steely shade of his eyes darken into a storm, swirling around the abyss of his pupils as they dilate. Dry as my throat is, I force a swallow and then listen to him. Not because I have to. Not because he asked. But because his eyes tell me everything I need to know. Right here, at this moment, I’m safe.
Inhale.
Exhale.
“Good girl. Breathe for me.” The praise does something obscene to my nervous system, and then I’m getting all of my oxygen from two simple words. His thumb rubs slow circles whilst his other hand finds my knee. “There you go.”
The world slowly comes back into focus.
“Better?” I can only nod, not trusting my voice. “Perfect.”
I attempt words again. “I’m so-sorry. I?—”
He shakes his head. Something bitter burns anew in his gaze, but he tames it, refines it, then tries again.
“No, the apology should be mine.” There’s a tremor at the corner of his frown. “I’m the one who overstepped. That’s on me, only me, and I’m sorry.”
Another apology sticks to the back of my tongue because that panic wasn’t born from nothing. My body leapt to a reaction before my mind could even conjure denial; some part of me was actually frightened. Some part of me believed his words, unpleasing as they were. I can’t even tell if that fear bears my name, or if it’s nothing but Godwyn pulling strings again. Together, they remind me that I’m back in this cycle of questioning who in this family is out to get me.
“You don’t need to be sorry, Eric.”
His eyes darken, storm clouds rolling in, and I meet it head-on, my chest warming. The hand at my nape seeks out the last of my tears, easing them away. He moves so cautiously, like if he does it too quickly, he’ll scare me off and ruin this fragile moment.
“It’s alright,really,” I add. “Thank you… for stepping in when you did.”
He inclines his head, and he’s close enough now that the silk of my robe brushes against his shirt. I watch his hand lift, slowly adjusting the fabric back onto my shoulder, thumb catching momentarily on the black lace of the strap. I stare down at the lily of the valley curling along his hand, purity inked into a man whose roots are poisonous. The bells of it tip towards my skin, leaving heat in their wake. After a millisecond, he respectfully flicks his attention away and takes two steps back.
“Kai leaves in half an hour. I’ll wait outside your door.”
That’s all he says, sounding both pained and relieved. In the next breath, he disappears as quietly as he entered. My heart refuses to settle even after he leaves, and my legs are unsteady when I hop down from the counter. I stay where I am, breathing him out of my lungs, one breath at a time.
It doesn’t work; he’s lodged there, and no matter how I force it loose, spectral hands hold fast.
21
THE MONSTER IN THE BLOODLINE
ERIC
Edmund is still outside: a ghost waiting for permission to haunt. He stands close to the patch of green that cradles long-dead family members. It’s far enough from the front door to pass for innocent and close enough that it’s not.No pacing, I note. Of course not. That would be too honest for someone like him. Restraint and logic would have me pass by him and return to my brother (for Edmund’s sake, not mine), but the situation has left a sour taste in my mouth, and I promised myself I’d stand guard. There’s no ignoring it. He startles when he sees me, masking it with a smile that doesn’t quite look human. More puppet-like, adhering to the strings that give it life.
Harmless.
He isn’t harmless, though.
“She alright?” he speaks before I have the chance to.
The attempt at dominance in this conversation nearly makes me laugh. He scratches the back of his neck, clear blue eyes jumping from me to the shut cottage door as though he’ll get an extra glimpse of Francesca.
