Page 38 of Corrupt Shadows
My eyes follow every delicious curve of her body, and I hate her for being so fuckable, but it’s more than that. I watch as she steps inside, every movement sensual. She pulls the shower curtain across and removes the necklace.
Her thoughts come through clearly. I’m so fucking horny. Fuck Lorcan and that compulsion. Well, and his tongue. Not that I wouldn’t fuck his tongue. Ew, stop it, she thinks to herself, and I listen in to her stream of consciousness. He’s disgusting. He didn’t even let me come, and he locked Gomez in a cage. He can’t just come in here and control my mind. Who the fuck does he think he is? I hope he is watching everything. I hope he chokes on the fucking sage. I’ll light it every day if it means harming him, the sick fuck! To think, he took my pills too. I know it was him. Who does that? She pauses, and I can practically smell her arousal from here.
My stomach knots, and her internal monologue seeps back into my mind.
I shouldn’t want to fuck him. What’s wrong with me? But fuck, I can’t stop thinking about that demon dick inside me. I bet it’s huge.
I smirk, delighted to hear I’m still the main thing on her mind. Whatever emotion may guide her thoughts, it will bring us closer together, and I can sense her magic from here. Those shadows are almost ready, and her ruin is so close, I can taste it.
She lets out a sigh of frustration as touching herself does nothing to bring her closer. Instead, she climbs out of the shower, then stares into the mirror. Droplets of water cascade down her breasts and torso, and I watch as they shimmer against her glistening skin. A white towel blocks my view, her wet strands being wrung out. Finally, she runs a brush through her hair but pauses.
For a second, I think she’s looking at me and I’ve accidentally shown myself—until I realize her gaze is focused on the scarred skin of her breast in the reflection. It’s barely visible, a stretch of white and pink under her nipple. Her wide brown eyes gloss with tears, and she averts her eyes back toward her face. I reach into her mind, my chest tightening when her lip trembles.
I’m safe. She tells herself such pretty lies, then blows out a tense breath. Edward can’t hurt me now. I’m not a teenager. I can protect myself.
Anger slides through me when she thinks of the gun instead of the unending, untamed power just under the surface. Her mind carousels through images of this Edward man, who I quickly realize was the man who adopted her, the sick fuck she called dad.
Finally, she leaves and heads to the bedroom, and I follow through the mirrors. It’s barely seven in the evening, yet she climbs under her blankets. Gomez flies in after and snuggles under her damp hair.
She’s afraid, but not of me or even the Order. It all goes back to this man and what his experiments did to her. I heighten her emotions through our attachment, despite it weakening from the sage. I’m just grateful she forgot to put the necklace back on. Weaving my way into her subconscious, I find the key to unleashing the darkness in her. She just needs a nudge, and I’m curious to see what this dark little witch, who reads horrors and goes to abandoned asylums, hides from.
She falls deeper into slumber, then into a memory. Shock roots me to the spot as I enter her nightmare, watching from a rectangle mirror as she prepares to be tortured by someone she loves and trusts—the betrayal an echo of my own past.
EIGHTEEN
Evie
I wrestle against the restraints on my wrists, desperation clawing with my magic to set me free.
My bare skin slides against the leather of the gurney. The gag cuts against the corners of my mouth, muffling my scream, although I should know better by now than to try. I turn my head to the side and catch my writhing, naked reflection in a rectangle mirror.
Silence permeates the basement. Metal shelves cover one wall, filled with various medical equipment. A cart sits next to me, scalpels and surgical tools set up.
Tears trickle into my hair as sobs quake through me. Shivers run through my body, adrenaline and fear mixing, causing parts of me to jolt involuntarily.
I deserve this. I’m an abomination. But my survival instincts kick in regardless.
Heavy boots pound down the steps, and the light flickers on. I clamp my eyes shut to the searing, white light penetrating my eyelids.
I don’t need to look to know he’s beside me. My father’s uneven breaths crawl over my chest as he leans over me. “Evie,” he says, disapproval threaded through his tone. “You lost control again.”
A lump forms in my throat. His finger slides down my cheek, wiping away a tear. I flinch and he clicks his tongue.
“I’m not doing this to hurt you,” he explains.
The last time this happened, he kept me down here for three days. But he seems different this time. There’s an excited tone in his voice that sets me on edge.
My eyes flutter open. He looks as if he’s just come in from mowing the lawn. Mixed with his heavy spice cologne, the scent leaks from him. I wonder if my mom knows I’m down here again. She doesn’t stop him. It’s for the best. I’m a danger to them and my brother.
The bright light moves color through his mousy hair, illuminating the paler blues in his irises. He presses his lips together, concentration wrinkling between his brows. His fingers loosen the gag as he slowly removes it.
“Please,” I beg the second it’s off, but my voice comes out cracked. I cough twice. My throat burns from dehydration. “I won’t do it again.”
His fingers land on my throat but he hesitates for a moment. I squirm and he lets out a long, restrained breath. “If the Order finds out I’ve been keeping you here, they’ll kill us all,” he says too casually and removes his touch. “There can be no room for error.”
He rubs his hand against his forehead, smoothing the wrinkles forming. No matter how many times he’s tried, the magic keeps bursting out of me like flames. It’s getting worse with age, and I know he hates me for it. He pretends not to, but I see it in his eyes.
He tilts his head, disheveling his hair. He picks a scalpel up, examining the blade under the light. My heart pounds against my ribcage, slamming my next breath from my lungs. “No.” I gasp, my eyes widening. “Please, Dad.”