Page 72 of His Eternal Claim

Her body trembles in my arms. Hot tears spill down her cheeks. Her breathing turns ragged. Like she can’t get enough air. And she keeps fighting. Still trying to claw through me. Still trying to get back to the flames.

My temper turns black. I cup her jaw; her chin jerks upward as she spits another curse.

And I kiss her, hard enough to silence her. She freezes. For one heartbeat, her lips are warm and trembling and stained with salt.

I taste fury.

Tears.

The sharp edge of blood from where she bit the inside of her mouth.

My grip tightens at her waist. She jerks against me.

Makes a furious sound into my mouth.

But I don’t let her go.

I kiss her like I’m trying to drag her back into her body.

Like I’m trying to force the hysteria out of her lungs and pull breath back into them.

Like anger, fear, and guilt are tearing me apart from the inside, and she’s the only thing keeping me upright.

I finally pull back, both of us breathing hard, her lips swollen and eyes blazing.

“Touch me again,” she whispers, shaking, “and I swear to God I’ll slit your throat.”

My chest rises hard, but I keep her pinned against me, anyway.

My forehead brushes hers. “Then do it when we are married.”

Chapter 24

My Sanctuary

THE REQUIEM | Present

You look lovely,” my Mother says.

Her voice sounds smooth. I look into the big glass on the wall, but the girl staring back at me is wearing a giant cloud of white. A wedding dress. It has lace. It is beautiful and simple, but inside my chest, a small voice whispers that it is wrong. Everything is wrong.

But I smile at her anyway. If I smile, the needles stay out of my head.

“Time for your medicine, Selene,” Mama says, holding out the little pills.

I take them from her hand. I put them in my mouth, but I don’t swallow. I hide them under my tongue. When she looks away, I spit them into my palm and slide them deep into the folds of the white lace dress. I don’t want the quiet today. I want to see clearly, even if it hurts.

Mama helps me slide into my heels. They make me tall. Then she pulls the heavy veil down over my face. The world looks white and foggy through the mesh. Mama looks beautiful too, but she isn’t wearing white. She is wearing a red gown. Red like a rose. Red like… something else.

As we walk, Mama talks and talks. She tells me about Vane. She says he is so handsome. She says he loves me so much, and she tells me how much I love him back. I listen to her words, but they don’t stick in my brain. They just float away like bubbles.

We get into the back of a big, dark car. There is a man in the front seat driving us. I look at the back of his head. His hair, the shape of his ears… he looks familiar. A little piece of a puzzle tries to fit into my mind, but it stops. I can’t remember. My brain feels like it’s full of heavy static.

So, I look out the window instead.

The car moves fast, passing big buildings. I read the letters painted on the street panels and signs as we glide by. The words look strange. They don’t look like home.

“It feels like Paris,” I murmur, the word tasting funny on my tongue. “What is Paris, Mama?”