Total pages in book: 222
Estimated words: 213974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1070(@200wpm)___ 856(@250wpm)___ 713(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 213974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1070(@200wpm)___ 856(@250wpm)___ 713(@300wpm)
“I remember. It’s all I think about when I look upon him.” Silver eather tinged in gold pulsed through his rapidly thinning flesh. The bones of his jaw and cheeks became visible, sending a chill down my spine. “I spent the last two days looking upon him while he returned to stasis,” he said, his voice dropping and losing its warmth. “Knowing that you care about him.”
My body went cold. So that was what Kolis had been doing since I’d last seen him? Staring at Ash? Every time I spoke to Kolis, I believed it would be impossible for him to disturb me more, and each time he proved me wrong.
“I wonder what it is about him that inspires such emotion in you.” His lips had begun to draw back, losing color and then the flesh itself, exposing his teeth and fangs as the tissue around his eyes, his eyelids, and the skin below began to sink in, leaving nothing but the bone behind. “And what it is about me that incites fear from you.”
A sour taste gathered as a near-hysterical laugh choked me. Was he seriously asking that? While he was turning into a godsdamn skeleton right in front of me?
“It makes me want to hurt him,” Kolis snarled. “Destroy him.”
Everything in me froze.
“But I won’t. I won’t. There must be balance, one way or another,” he said as if reminding himself. And holy fuck, that wasn’t reassuring. A shudder went through him, and the shape of his lips filled out. His eyelids returned, shielding the unholy burn of eather. “Without it, there is nothing.”
I stared at him, wide-eyed.
“There are no realms. No me,” he said. “No you.”
“Uh-huh,” I murmured.
Those eyes opened. Several moments passed as Kolis became more…fleshed out. “You were afraid of me before, when I first lost you and brought you back. It wasn’t until the end of our time together that it changed.” He exhaled long and slow. “But this time, you’ve shown very little fear of me, even if you’ve felt it. That’s changed.”
Looking upon Kolis now, after watching him lose his hold on his temper and let go of the façade that hid what he was, all I could think about was how Tavius had physically changed when he grew angry or was about to do something particularly heinous. He hadn’t flushed or become erratic. When that darkness in him took hold, he’d grown very still, almost lifeless, except for the gleam in his eyes. That fevered, crazed look I’d seen once before in a dog that had become sick, causing it to foam at the mouth and bite at the air.
Kolis had the same gleam. “You showed it when I last left you,” he said, the eather receding from his skin. “And you show it now. I don’t need my nephew’s talent for reading emotion to know that, nor my brother’s foresight.”
“Foresight?” I asked, unable to stop myself. “Eythos could see the future?”
“Not in the way you would think,” he said. “Eythos was given…heightened intuition. Knowledge of what should not be known to him.” A smirk twisted his lips. “He didn’t always utilize the ability or listen.”
Clearly.
“But I understand why I would frighten you now. I spoke of wanting to harm someone you care about. You saw me as I truly look—as I really am beneath the beauty and gold of the very last of the embers of life. You saw me as I was before and will always be. Death. That would terrify most,” he said. “But you were afraid before all of that. Uneasy from the moment I entered, in a way you weren’t before the last time we were alone. That, I don’t understand.”
One thing I’d never managed to learn when dealing with Tavius was how to proceed with caution when he got that glint in his eyes. I had a sinking suspicion I was about to repeat that mistake as my mouth opened. “You truly don’t understand why I’d be uneasy after what you did?”
A muscle ticked at his temple. “I apologized and promised it would not happen again.”
As if that erased what happened?
Kolis stared at me, waiting.
Apparently, he believed his apology and meaningless promises did change everything.
They didn’t.
But I had to say something. I cleared my throat, my mind racing. Of course, I knew I should accept his apology. Tell him it was okay. Say I’d enjoyed it, even though I clearly hadn’t. But I…I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything but the truth. “You…you did frighten me.” My fingers curled inward. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
The skin between his brows puckered. “I apologized,” he repeated.
“I know,” I said. “And you promised that it wouldn’t happen again. Neither of those things makes what happened okay.”
“Then let me repeat myself once more. I told you it would not happen again,” he said, frustration sharpening his tone. “Which you just acknowledged.”