Page 13 of Eternal Craving

I started to express my disapproval at his mistreatment of the book, but my tongue found itself wedged between my teeth. I wondered where he’d gotten it. Miguel’s silence forced me to return to my makeshift bed.

I was almost accustomed to the smell of the animals.

The nightmares still came, but they’d changed. I’d been reborn in the darkest corner of that mausoleum – still human but forever altered.

No longer was I pulled back into that small, windowless room…now a woman called to me. It was Sunaria, her figure bathed in silver moonlight, strange and otherworldly.

The darkest craving was forher.

At dawn, my stare lingered on the mail tray, as though Roelle’s forged will would magically reappear if I gazed at it long enough. My heart was pounding furiously, even before I took the stairs three at a time.

Roelle was still in bed, sitting with his back against the headboard. A servant girl had set his breakfast tray by his side – an assortment of breads, eggs, and a small pot of milk.

I held my hands behind my back to hide their tremors. One hint from Roelle that he knew what I’d done, and I’d bolt.

I blamed my reckless behavior on the liquor I’d consumed last night. I’d been so foolish to believe I could get away with it.

“Can’t the chef be more imaginative?” Roelle glanced at the food and then his irritated frown settled on me. “What?”

“Alicia?” I said quietly.

Roelle gave me a confused look. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“The woman?”

“What woman?”

His lack of memory made no sense – Sunaria was unforgettable.

He rubbed his neck as he watched the maid draw back the curtains, allowing the sun to flood in, casting white rays that quickly banished even the sneakiest of shadows.

“That’s too bright,” he said, then waved her off. “Leave them.”

She stepped back as though unsure, sunlight bathing her delicate features.

I was amazed he’d forgotten Sunaria so soon but reasoned he just didn’t want to talk – not with me, anyway.

Roelle’s fumbling fingers clumsily stroked his hairy thigh. “My skin’s crawling.” He scratched, digging his nails into his flesh, throwing off the bed sheets and kicking at them. His head slumped back onto the pillow, his body jerking, spasming. His jaw slackened and his contorted lips formed into a cry. Out of his mouth came a terrible gurgling, and then a screech escaped his over-stretched mouth, spittle bursting out and trickling, wetting his chin.

He thrashed violently, like something had taken hold of him, as if an unseen force was devouring him from within, seizing his body for its own.

The maid, pale now and shaking, reached for the milk pot as it tipped, its contents pouring onto the floor, leaving a trail of creamy-white liquid snaking its way beneath the bed, as though fleeing in terror.

Roelle’s skin began to blister, and his eyes bulged. He fell off the bed and the tray crashed with him, spilling the rest of its contents. A flash of flames set his hair alight, his flesh melting, ashe crawled along the floor with a crazed expression, lurching for me, arms flailing.

I grabbed the water jug and threw the liquid over him, ready to jump out of his way if he turned.

Roelle rose up and bashed against the window frame, catching the curtain on fire. He screamed in agony, a ragged, soul-tearing sound that echoed with pure, unfiltered pain.

I seized the maid’s hand and yanked her out of her horrified trance, and out the door, leaving behind that dreadful wailing. We scurried along the corridor and ran for the stairs.

An orange flash of movement lurched from the bedroom.

The breath left my lungs when I saw Roelle staggering behind us, his arms outstretched as he came closer, a monstrous human inferno. The girl tripped and I yanked her up and pulled her with me down the steps.

Several of the staff, their faces full of fright, stared past us at Roelle, who crashed against the velvet backdrop hanging from the ceiling. Dancing flames leaped from him and onto the drapes, raging upward, spreading wildly.

The heat pushed us back.