Page 38 of Butcher & Blackbird

“I don’t get it—”

“You ate a fucking person,” she blurts out.

I blink at Sloane once before pulling the bowl back to heave again.

“Oh myGod, Rowan, it was really gross. You stuffed it in. Couldn’t get enough.”

I retch.

“You passed out while chewing. I had to scrape it off your tongue so you wouldn’t choke.”

I glare at her through watery eyes before vomiting again, though thankfully there’s not much left to get rid of.

“Did you know it was a rump roast? I tortured Thorsten until he told me. I had to dighuman assout of yourmouth.”

“At least you didn’t fuckingswallow it, Sloane. Why the fuck didn’t you stop me?”

“I tried, but you just went for it. Don’t you remember?”

Shit. I do remember.

I remember a lot more than that.

Sloane watches me a little too closely. She’s not as apathetic as she tries to appear. The longer I stare, the more her indifferent mask crumbles, and a faint blush rises beneath the freckles dusting her cheeks and nose.

This fucking girl.Panicking because I gave her a glimpse into how I feel. Clearly nervous about a conversation she’s desperate not to have. Ready to fly.

And I would do anything to keep her around, even if it means taking a hammer to my own heart.

“No.” I shake my head as my gaze drifts toward the centerpiece. “The last thing I remember is David coming through the door with the trolley. I don’t recall anything after that.”

When I glance up, Sloane’s lips twitch. It’s almost a smile. Her eyes are a little softer.

Fuck.

Just as I suspected. She’s fucking relieved.

I’ll absorb the venom of this burning sting. I drop my head into my hands. She’ll never know I remember every second of my embarrassing, unrequited confession. I’ll never forget the way her skin flushed such a pretty shade of pink when I said she was beautiful. I would have crawled across the table to kiss those plump lips when they pursed as I spilled my secrets between us.

I need to get it through my fucking thick skull. She will never want more than this. But I refuse to lose her. Sloane is the only person in the world who can look at my monster and find a friend. And I know she needs a friend just as much as I do. Maybe more.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Yeah. It’s just the drugs,” I lie again. I make a vow right this instant that it will be the last lie I ever tell Sloane Sutherland. “I feel like shit.”

Truth.

“I imagine you do. I know how it goes,” she says. She pulls the bowl away when she seems reasonably sure I’m done. “Well, not the eating people part. I don’t know about that.”

I give her a half-hearted glare which only serves to brighten her smile before she turns away and carries the bowl to set it in the hall, muttering to herself about dealing with it later. There’s a groan of pain from the end of the table and I’m a little grateful for something else to focus on besides the burn in my throat.

I look toward Thorsten. And for the first time, I really focus on the scene around me.

“Orb Weaver,” I whisper, my breath catching in my chest at the beautiful horror of an intricate web that shimmers in the candlelight. “Sloane…how?”

Her smile is bashful as she pushes away from the table with a shrug. “I had time to kill.”

Sloane walks toward Thorsten. His head hangs against his chest as blood drips down his face from the lightless caverns where his eyes once were. He stirs a little and groans before he fades back into unconsciousness.