Page 28 of Palingenesis

I’m righted with no effort on my part, the forest whirling around me before landing on him.

Impossibly red eyes stare back at me, a scar jutting through the bridge of his nose and across his cheek beneath them. They’re so … enchanting. Unreal. I find myself getting lost in the flecks of gold and orange that meld together in his irises, only noticeable with our extremely close proximity.

Nothing else seems to matter as I simply stand and stare at him, not even the events that lead me to be captured in his gaze, aside from my heavy breaths.

But then they flash, reflecting light like a flaring flame that makes me jolt and it all comes rushing back.

I’m shaking when his lips spread into a sinister smile and his grip on my wrist tightens. “Hello, beloved.”

Watching his mouth move with the words almost makes it audible in my head, like my brain is tracking the sound waves of his voice, even if I can’t hear it. My skin pebbles at the sentiment, something about it flowing over me with a familiarity I can’t name before it shifts into an unease. I jerk against the grasp he still has on my wrist.

“I-I have a boyfriend,” I lie and sign with my free hand, my fingers brushing over his chest as I do. He’s so close that he’s in the space I need to speak, which irks me more than I expect, and a huff vibrates my throat.

Those glowing eyes narrow to dangerous slits before the outside ring of his irises expand, turning black and swallowing the whites whole.

My throat clicks.

The air shifts, staining with the scent of burning as the wind picks up, bringing with it that blanketing haze I recall seeing, though I can’t place where. Or when.

“Where am I?”

It’s nothing but a distraction–for me and for this nightmarish creature with contorting features standing in front of me, holding me in place. I jerk in his grasp again, a bubble of panic rising up in my chest when he doesn’t release me.

I look left, right, my wild gaze flickering all over the trees and brush surrounding us as that haze closes the distance until it’s circling around us.

Oh, gods, is this the …

Stupidly, cowardly, I land on the creature that’s holding me in place with a dying plea on my lips.

It’s not the unnaturally red hair flowing down to his shoulders, or the look in his blackened eyes, but that gnarly scar running down his face that stops me dead.

This isn’t a dream. The thought knocks me out of my frozen state just enough to leave me trembling.

It’s fucking real.

Chapter 17

Shannon

I’d dropped my weight and stopped thrashing halfway back to the house, when I realized that he wasn’t going to let up on his grip no matter how much I fought. I made him drag me about two paces before he realized I wasn’t willingly coming along.

The look in his eyes should have terrified me. If I’m being honest, there’s a part of me that was, but there was also something else there, hidden behind a mask of annoyance at my sudden ragdoll state that I couldn’t blame him for because really? Who plays dead when they’re being kidnapped?

It might actually be effective as shit because he leans down, only releasing my wrist to grab my hips and hoist me up over his shoulder like a petulant child. Or a sack of potatoes–easily carried, easily manipulated.

I kind of feel like a child as I pound on his backside with closed fists, legs kicking in the air until I manage to squish my balls between my thighs on accident.

The howl rips out of my throat just as I’m carried through the foyer and back up the staircase I ran down just minutes ago.

“Fuck,” I sign one-handed against his back, throat clicking, and making sure to dig my thumb hard into his spine so he feels at least an ounce of the discomfort he’s putting me through.

He only adjusted me on his shoulder, bones and hard muscle digging into my gut with each step until we come to a stop inside a room that looks suspiciously similar to the one I woke up in.

The residual scent of smoke hangs in the air, as does that weird glowing haze, and I huff.

Square one. Fucking perfect.

My body bounces off the mattress, limbs flailing for purchase. The sound that leaves my throat on impact must be audible enough because it has my captor glancing over his shoulder, sharp gaze boring into me. His eyes have returned to semi-normal in the sense that they aren’t pitch black any longer—but that fucking scar stands out like a stark contrast to the rest of his face; jagged and deep. Like a crack in chiseled marble.