Page 130 of Ashen Torment
He senses my movement and decisively grabs me by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the wet fabric.
“Answer me.”
I strike him with an elbow and he reacts by twisting my arm, pinning me with force.
“Answer me.”
“It does not concern you,” I spit with labored breath.
“It concerns me!” he yells, his voice vibrating, charged with frustration.
I breathe heavily, trying to wrench myself from his grip, pushing my hands against his forearms.
“Stop playing this godforsaken game!”
“I am playing no game.”
I cover my face with my hands, my chest heaving. He strips the blanket from my arms with a decisive jerk.
“Give it back.”
“Answer my question,” he says as a flash of lightning illuminates the shack.
I try to reclaim the blanket, but he hurls it away, and immediately after, he flings his own aside as well.
Perhaps I should just suffocate him. Here and now. No one would ever know.
I click my tongue, making to stand up, but he beats me to it; he pulls me down and stretches out on top of me, his weight crushing me, his arms and body acting as a barrier.
“Have you gone mad?”
“Answer,” Dorian breathes, his wet forehead brushing mine.
I try to push him, to free myself, but his body is a vice. He stares at me, pupils constricting slightly beneath his wet hair.
“I have no particular interest in her,” I hiss, exhausted. “Is that enough? Now let me go and give me that damned blanket.”
He slowly lowers his head toward me, his forehead resting against mine, warm and trembling.
“You...”
I remain motionless, breath held.
“What?”
“You are a pestilence.”
Une pestilence?
“What are you blathering about?” I retort, eyes locked onto his, searching for a shred of rationality.
“I do not know how to define you other than that. A feverish irrationality.”
He closes his eyes, and the weight of his forehead against mine is magnetic.
“Every thought of mine seeks you... you are the background noise that annuls duty, the only silence I seek in sleep.”
A sigh, and the words fall like rain upon our faces.
