Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
I’m in a magical realm a million lifetimes from everything I know, and I can’t stop jumping on my captor’s cock. I’m giving him exactly what he wants. It’s easier to be angry with Azazel than to examine all the ways I feel hurt and foolish right now.
The first corner brings me back to my door. “Thank you.” I can’t quite make my tone be gracious. I shove through my door and head directly to the bathroom. I’m going to shower and then . . .
The rest of my life stretches out before me, with me lonely and alienated. I’ve been here over a week. That’s barely enough time to adjust, but trying to explore feels like giving in. I wrap my arms around myself, more conflicted than I’ve ever been. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to feel.
Showering does nothing to clear my mind. Getting ready usually creates a calm space inside me, the motions familiar and comforting. Not today. I give up halfway through and march out to the wardrobe to pull on a black wrap dress. It’s beautiful and fits perfectly, which only worsens my mood.
I have to get out of here.
Even if that means seeing him before I’m ready. This room is massive, but the walls feel like they’re closing in. I have to go . . . I need to . . .
I push through the door. “Please.” It’s getting easier to talk to the castle, feels less like I’m talking to myself. Or maybe desperation has a way of cleaving through things that don’t matter. “I need to get out. Just for a little while. I need . . .”
Walking helps keep the buzzing feeling that’s beneath my skin at bay, but only barely. It’s so much worse than it was last night, but I’ll throw myself out a window before I beg the castle to send me to Azazel.
No matter how much I crave the feeling of his strong arms around me. That craving is a lie, a weakness. Giving in to it will only pave the way for him to get what he wants. He ruined my life.
He saved my life.
Only because he’s the one who endangered it!
Fuck, now I’m arguing with myself. This is bad.
I turn two corners and nearly weep at the sight of a staircase opening up in front of me. “Thank you.” I rush forward, moving too quickly, but I can’t seem to slow down. The voices in my head are drowned out by two words, repeated over and over again until they bleed into each other.
Get out. Get out. Get out. Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout.
I’m moving so fast, I trip over my feet. For a moment, I’m perfectly weightless, and then I crash into a body. It catches me around the waist and keeps me from landing on my face. “Eve? What’s wrong?”
Ramanu.
I know that the sensation of my ribs cracking, of my sternum splitting, of my heart emerging, bloody and frantic, is panic. It’s not real. It can’t possibly be real. But though my brain knows that, my body hasn’t gotten the memo. “Can’t. Breathe.”
To their credit, Ramanu doesn’t hesitate. They loop an arm around my waist and turn smoothly to keep walking in the direction I was headed. “You’re safe.”
“No.”
“You are,” they insist. Calm and steady. Their tone isn’t patronizing or pitying. Just matter-of-fact. “You’re having a panic attack.” We round another corner. “I’m taking you to the gardens. We’re almost there.”
They half carry me the rest of the way. My legs aren’t quite working the way I need them to be. Nothing is working the way I need it to. Can someone die from panic? Surely that’s possible. Rabbits die from fear, right? Why wouldn’t it be possible for humans too?
Ramanu hauls me through a wide doorway, and then the sun is on my face, warm and buttery and as gentle as the caress of a mother I’ve never met. They bring me to a low bench and urge me down. “Here, darling.” They guide my arms up to cross over my chest, my hands to the front of each shoulder. Then they tap their fingers over mine, back and forth, back and forth. “Breathe. Focus on the sensation.” Back and forth. “Again. There you go.”
My eyes burn. “I can’t—”
“You can.” They speak firmly and softly, still tapping in that regular rhythm. “Give it time.”
I don’t know how long it goes on for. It feels like a small eternity. I can’t even say when I finally manage to draw a full breath or when the horrible tightness in my chest eases, just a little. Only that it happens. Eventually.
Through it all, Ramanu crouches before me, as patient as a saint, talking to me softly as they continue tapping. Them having horns where most humans have eyes turns out to be comforting. They squeeze my shoulders. “Better?”