Page 26 of Love Her Ruin
"Hers."
His breath hitches. A sob builds in his chest, but it doesn’t escape. He’s full of them, pressurized, ready to burst when she returns.
My shadows feed him dreams while he sleeps and while he’s awake. I shape them, showing him her face in a thousand variations. Sometimes she is the woman he remembers—broken, bleeding, crying in that alleyway. Sometimes she is the woman she has become—crowned in shadow, her eyes full of stars that burn. In every dream, she wins. In every dream, he loses.
That mercy I give him is the certainty of his defeat.
I drift back, circling him. The shadow-chains creak. His weight shifts, and a small sound escapes his throat—pain, exhaustion, his body's endless complaint.
He still hurts despite my efforts to keep him alive and conscious.
I stop, and the air around me drops ten degrees. Frost crawls across the ruined concrete floor. My shadows yank his joints even harder.
Now he really hurts.
I smile, a crack in the dark, a glimpse of something vast and hungry.
Silent tears cut down his face. I catch one on my fingertip and bring it to my mouth.
Tastes like a rapist.
I shout my displeasure at the foundation of the house, and dust and debris rain down.
"Burn. Burn. Burn." I grow with each word, the shadows thickening around me. "Here. Now.Burn."
Heat blooms under his skin, invisible, but I can feel it. He gasps, tries to pull away from nothing, but the shadow-chains hold him fast.
The heat builds. Sweat beads on his forehead, drips down his temples. His breath comes faster, shallower.
Then he screams, a raw, tearing sound that bounces off the walls. He thrashes in the shadow-chains, twisting, trying to escape a fire that exists only in his own mind.
"Stop," he begs. "Please. Stop."
I don’t let them stop, not for a long while.
Then finally, the heat vanishes. The phantom flames gutter and die, and he is left gasping, shaking, whole but shattered.
I drift closer and place my hand on his chest, over his heart. It hammers against my palm like a trapped bird.
He sags in the shadow-chains, weeping, and I retreat to the corner where the shadows are thickest. I will wait. I am good at waiting. I have been waiting for her for longer than he can imagine.
And when she returns, I will be here.
Ready for more.
Chapter 14
Sera
Myturn.
Vincent has been in my basement for almost two full days now, and I’ve been more than patient.
The match flares in my hand, sulfur and heat, and I hold it to the tip of the cigar until the tobacco catches, glows, and burns. I take a drag and immediately regret it. The taste is bitter and harsh, and it clings to my tongue.
And the smell… The smell brings me back to that night.
But I need the bad memories to do what I’m about to do.
