Page 91 of Chain Me

“It’s okay.” He knelt before me, easing me into his arms. From over his shoulder, I saw the knife disappear, tucked beyond my reach. “What were you thinking?”

“I…”

He pulled back, forcing me to meet his gaze before I could form a coherent explanation. Yellow sunlight spilled in from the window, almost blinding as it reflected off his features. How could I tell him the truth?

I’m hearing voices, Dublin. Voices in my head, and they won’t stop.

They won’t stop…

“I’m fine,” I croaked. “I…I was cleaning up.”

“Cleaning up?” He sounded more cautious than ever.

It wasn’t until I followed his gaze down to my chest that I realized why. I was trembling.

“Yes.” I staggered to my feet and shook my head to clear it. The paranoia had been the mere remnants of a nightmare. Yes… “I need a bath. That’s all,” I decided, staggering toward the bathroom. “I expect you’ll have lunch waiting for me, slave.”

I didn’t look back to see his reaction. I raced into the safety of my tub instead, running the water as hot as I could stand. Lavender-scented soap helped erase the unease somewhat.

When I finally reentered my bedroom, I wasn’t shaking anymore. Heat kissed my clammy skin, displacing some of the unnatural bitter cold.

And I felt fine.

I was fine…

Liar,that voice cackled from within.You’re going insane, Eleanor.

You’re going insane.

Quiet

The following days passed in stiff, tense stillness. Desperate to put the knife incident behind us, I fell into my role more fervently than ever—the obedient ward under a monster’s control. I didn’t dare so much as breathe the word “answers” or mention Dmitri.

Yet, with each passing moment, our delicate routine strained at the edges.

For one, Dublin stopped serving me anything requiring silverware, insisting more often than not that I drink my meals. If I asked him why, he evaded giving me a solid answer—and, as if to disguise the concern, he tried distracting me with taunts.

Insults, even.

“If you become any thinner, I won’t have anything to hold on to the next time you decide to straddle me while airborne.”

But I knew he was worried—and that terrified me more than hallucinating a weapon into a rose. When he looked at me, his expression became hollower than ever. Trying to maintain eye contact was a game of averted, downcast glances. Eventually, the man began to resemble a living statue in my presence more than a protector.

Always on guard. Always watching.

Even worse, I could sense what little glimmer of trust we’d built up slip further away. The quest for answers itself had cemented our unnatural union, yet each day without them felt like another unwelcome shove off a cliff toward an unknown drop.

Maybe the delusions were my body’s way of trying to warn me?

You aren’t ready for this.

You can’t handle this.

You shouldn’t prolong this.

“…consider your time up,” Dublin snarled. He sounded faint, as if his voice were coming from down below. But, bellowed like thunder, each word reached my ears clearly even as I lay in bed, too drained to eavesdrop. “You have an hour to return with whatever ‘answers’ you have. I won’t even waste my breath on a threat. And if I learn that you’ve somehow harmed her…”

Murder resonated in his tone and some numb piece of my soul stirred in response. Me. He was afraid for me.