Page 89 of Pet: Torment

His eyes look different. The calm pulse of purple has transpired into a glittering pulse that shifts back and forth. It makes looking him in the eyes difficult. My body can’t seem to comprehend his existence, and his gaze is so intense that it feels like he is looking right through me. I slowly pull my bottom lip between my teeth to fight the shiver climbing up my spine from that chilling expression, and his eyes follow the movement.

He lifts his hand, reaching for my face, and I flinch, closing my eyes. I slowly open them when I feel his fingers on the hairpin.

“I see my warning had no effect on you. Then again, I guess they never really did,” he says.

My eyes widen.

“You remember?” I ask.

He makes a face, laughing at my reaction. “You’re that desperate for me to remember who you are?” he asks.

I look down for a moment, taking a break from holding his frightening gaze.

“Do you remember?” I ask.

Silence passes between us, and when I look up at him, he’s still watching me.

“Unfortunately, there is more than memories of you that have been stripped from me,” he says.

I try to look away, but he reaches for my face, holding my chin as he studies me.

“But you are there…in small moments,” he says, “Too small to believe your stories. Or believe you were anything other than a slave from a conquered world,” he says.

I pull away from him, my anger shining through.

“If they’re so small, then why do you keep coming to me as if I matter?” I ask.

“You are the only thing in my missing memory that is still here,” he says.

A bitter chuckle escapes me. So he’s still using me to complete his puzzle piece. He has no intention of returning to me—only to recovering what was lost. And according to him, it’s much more than our time on Earth.

“I’m not giving up on you, Remus,” I say.

This time, as I look him in the eyes, I let the shudder of discomfort consume me. I want him to see how terrified I am.Whatever change has occurred between last night and today has made him noticeably less human, for lack of a better word.

“I am not lying to you. I am the only one who isn’t. I care about you. And I know you know I’m not lying. You need me, and I won’t stop fighting for you, the same way I didn’t stop fighting for my planet,” I say.

Remus’s gaze is unreadable as he steps closer to me. He once again reaches for my face, his fingers brushing my cheek before drifting down the side of my throat, tracing my shoulder to rest on my back. I flinch as he brushes over the bruise beneath the dress, but then I feel warmth against it, the pain slowly subsiding.

Remus slowly steps away from me, confusion on his expression.

“I know,” he says, his tone laced in the same confusion I see in his expression.

His hand slowly falls at his side as he watches me, his eyes returning to their normal ethereal glow as he takes a step back. He briefly looks at the hairpin in my hair before focusing back on my face.

“You will eventually die a meaningless death because of it. And I won’t be the one to mourn you. No one will.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Remus

Usually, at this point in the evening, I have already left the celebration. I have no interest in socializing. I only ever show for the sake of the Leviathan, so they know that I am very real and have an interest in the well-being of society. But this night, I feelhesitant to leave. And it’s all because of the strange human who floats around in my dreams.

I quietly watch her from across the room. She’s visibly defeated as she fights tears. I’d find it amusing if it weren’t so confusing. From the first time I laid eyes on her, she has looked at me with familiarity. I didn’t think anything of it our first meeting. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even think of her again until Iriel mentioned her in his desperate plea for me not to take his life. Then, the day I sensed my essence faintly floating through the building, I discovered her in our records room wearing the hairpin I infused with my essence.

If not for my sibling’s strange obsession with protecting her, I would have killed her on the spot for stealing something so valuable to me. According to her, however, she didn’t steal it. She claimed I gave it to her—something I don’t recall ever doing. It was a lie she fiercely believed enough that her body was showing signs that she was telling the truth. She was willing to endure the pain I put her through to hold onto that lie—even when more outlandish lies tumbled from her lips.

Then, the dreams came. They were vivid and intense, ranging from times in my childhood that I don’t recall to things that have never occurred on other worlds. But among these dreams, she appeared in small bursts. As did a more vivid recollection of moments on Earth that I can’t think of when I am awake.