Page 60 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

MAEVYTH

A fter a moment more, nibbling on my bottom lip, I threw back the covers and tiptoed toward the door.

The corridor stood quiet and empty, lit only by the fireplace behind me, and darkened the moment I shut Aleysia’s door.

I crept toward Zevander’s room, each step no more than a whisper of sound, and placed my ear against the thick wood.

Not a single peep bled through.

He could’ve been asleep.

I rapped softly.

Nothing.

That alone concerned me. Aside from the moments when I’d found him entranced, he’d always been attuned to sounds, no matter how quiet.

I carefully opened the door and, peering inside, I found him sitting in the tub, his hands clutching either side of it, body trembling. It seemed he’d managed to scrounge candles that’d he’d placed around the floor, their soft flickering shadows dancing over his skin.

“Zevander?” I inched closer with cautious steps, not wanting to startle him, and quietly knelt alongside the floor. I pushed back strands of his hair to find his eyes blackened, as if lost to some unseen terror.

Dread coiled around my ribs, and I gripped his arm, giving a soft shake.

He inhaled sharply, seeming to break out of it, but instead of acknowledging me, his gaze darted around, the look in his eyes wild and frantic. Restless.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t breathe. My chest …. it’s tight.

” Water splashed over the edge of the tub, as he seemed to search for something in a panic.

Leaning over the side opposite me, he rustled through what I assumed to be his discarded pile of clothes.

“Where is it? Where is it?” The terror in his voice heightened, his movements abrupt as he searched through the garments.

“What are you looking for? I can help.”

“It’s here. I know it’s here.” He finally relaxed back in the tub, clutching my scorpion necklace and a dagger.

I shot to my feet at the sight of the blade in his hand.

“What are you doing with that?” I watched in horror, as he lowered it into the water, and seconds later, ribbons of blood rose to the surface.

He tipped back his head, fingers curled tight around the necklace. “Think of Maevyth,” he whispered, somehow unaware that I stood right there, beside him.

My mind spun back to the night in the cabin, when I’d seen him in the bedroom with his back to me. Whispering the same thing. I was certain he’d been pleasuring himself then, but perhaps I’d been wrong.

“I’m here.” I dove forward, reaching down the length of his rigid arm to where he kept the blade pressed to his thigh. “Zevander look at me, I’m here.” Careful to avoid the dagger, I wrapped my hand around his.

His eyes shot open, and his muscles lurched. He threw my arm back, the hasty movement sending me off balance, and I gracelessly stumbled backward into the tub, legs flailing into the air, as the tepid water rushed to meet me.

Still wearing my shift, I scrambled to twist my body around, the garment soaked and clinging to me. My palm brushed the hilt of the blade on the tub floor, and at a glance of him frantically patting around for it, I swiped it up, holding it above the surface between us.

His steely gaze locked on the weapon, but the moment he lunged toward me, I tossed it away. The blade clanged against the stone floor, and still seemingly lost in whatever trance that’d failed to make him notice me, he tracked the knife and leaned toward the edge of the tub.

I reached out for his arm.

Like the strike of a snake, he twisted back around and gripped my throat, a flicker of madness gleaming in his eyes.

“Go on, then,” I rasped against the pressure, while his grip tightened. “Choke the very life out of me, if that’s what you intend.”

His feral gaze wavered with a shine, and after a brief pause, he seemed to slowly crawl out of his head.

Brows knitting together, he released me and kicked himself away, pulling his knees up, as he covered his face with his palms. Thumping his heel at his temple, he released an angry, guttural sound in his throat, telling me he was spiraling into himself.

“What am I doing? What in seven hells am I doing?”

“Wherever you were just now…it wasn’t real. They were images in your mind.”

“No.” He shook his head, emphasizing the point.

“You’re wrong . They’ve always been real.

Hiding in the corners of my thoughts. The voices.

Their hands. That…smell.” His lips pulled to a grimace, the words seeping like acid through his clenched teeth.

“It clogs my throat. Suffocating, until I can’t stand to take a single breath. ”

I wanted to ask him about those voices and those hands, to whom they belonged, but I feared dwelling on them might send him right back into that darkness. Every muscle in his body trembled, and so desperately, I wanted to touch him, to comfort him.

“Forgive me for putting my hands on you that way.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You weren’t yourself just now.”

“The way I struck out at you. I would nev—” He winced and turned away, shaking his head. “I hurt you. These visions I keep having, they’ve rooted themselves so deeply in my thoughts, I don’t know what I’m doing. Who I am.”

I tipped my head to the side, searching for his eyes. “Tell me you’re with me now. Tell me you’re here. With me .”

When he lifted his gaze, it was so filled with remorse, the sight of him tore at my heart. But the blackness had given way to the familiar burgundy and orange, and with a prickle of tears, I nodded at their familiarity. “Okay.”

He turned his face from mine again, as if he couldn’t bear to look at me.

“Don’t carry this burden alone, Zevander.”

“I would never wish this on you. I’d sooner crush myself under the weight of it than give it to you. But I can’t push it away like before. I can’t stop these thoughts. I’m losing my senses.”

“Just stay here. Stay with me right here.”

“I want to be here with you. Desperately. But it’s best if you go. By the gods, I’d carve my own fucking heart out of my chest, if I ever hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me, Zevander. You won’t. And I’m not going anywhere.” I pushed out of the water and wrapped my arms around him.

He seemed hesitant to embrace me at first, but then his arms crushed around my body, his muscles shaking as he held me so tight, I could scarcely breathe.

I wriggled to loosen his grip a little and kissed him on the forehead. His cheek. And finally, I pressed my lips to his.

Perhaps too hastily on my part, but damn it, I couldn’t escape the visual of seeing him with that blade. It’d shaken me to my core.

Stop this , my head battled as I melted into the kiss. It wasn’t right to impose my own needs and desires upon him while he fought to wrangle his mind.

Fingers threaded in my hair, and he kissed me back with the ferocity of a raging fire, desperate and consuming.

Ravenous. As if the world around us didn’t exist. My guilt from moments ago withered in his possessive embrace, and the raw and bitter taste of his remorse burned across my tongue like a breathless apology.

Repentance for pain he’d never inflicted.

I lowered my face to break from the kiss, watching a concerning amount of blood color the water. As if sensing my urge to investigate his wounds, he gripped my arm.

“I’m fine,” he said tonelessly. “The blade and I are old friends.”

“The scars on your thighs. You did that to yourself? For comfort?”

He kept his gaze from mine. “I feel nothing without it. I am nothing without it.”

Part of me wanted to challenge his comment, but I knew those thoughts too intimately, recognized the dull ache of feeling worthless and unwanted.

Every scar on his body marked the permanence of his pain, hardening the flesh like iron in a flame. Beaten and broken.

Tempered steel forged by his own suffering.

The glint of his piercings drew my attention to the erection that nearly breached the water’s surface. Seeing it brought to mind when he’d burned his wounds and released, what I’d been certain was, a pleasured sound. “You find gratification in pain.”

He winced again and turned away. “Leave. Please.”

“No. No, I won’t leave. What do you need me to do?”

He snapped his gaze back to mine, brows pulled tight. “ Need you to do?” Lips twisted in disgust, he shook his head. “You’ll not have any part of this.”

“I am part of this. I was a part of this, the moment you stirred feelings in me.”

“And I will not rob you of that.”

“Rob me of what? My virtue? My innocence?”

“You deserve better, Maevyth! Gentle hands and heartfelt words.”

“And you don’t believe that you deserve that? That you’re capable of handling me gently?” When he didn’t answer, I continued. “You’ve already shown me, Zevander.”

“When I had my wits about me, yes. I had the strength and mental fortitude to tamp this down. Every hour that passes, I am consumed . My mind—” He tapped at his temple. “What stills my hand…is slowly dissolving. The pain is all there is. It’s my only tether to reality.”

“Let me be the one to tether you. Show me what you need.”

Eyes screwed shut, he looked away. “Please go. I’ll handle this myself.”

“And how long have you been handling this yourself? I may not have the experiences with men to know what brings you pleasure. But I know pain and suffering, and the desperate need to be accepted for who you are. I’m not afraid of who you are.

” With a gentle nudge against his chin, I brought his attention back to me. “Not even this.”

Although his face remained turned toward me, his gaze fell from mine.

Determined to prove my words true, I reached down into the blood-tinged water and, with my unscaled hand, took hold of him.

His muscles jerked, and he grasped my hand that encased his flesh, but he didn’t push me away.

“Show me everything. I want to see every part of you. Even the darkest.”

“Maevyth,” he said past clenched teeth. “I can’t do this to you.”

“You’re doing nothing to me. Now, tell me what you need.”