A Hybrid's Hunger

Chapter 41

Chapter 41

"What are you doing here?" He asks me, his voice gentle.

I look away from him and blink a few times, trying to regain my sense. "I—I don't know," I manage to say, but the words barely leave my throat. "I just—thought of being here, alone."

He takes another step forward, less hesitant this time, until he's standing only a few feet away from me. I've to look away from him before he's in my head again. I can't look into his eyes for long.

"It's cold," He says with concern lingering in his tone. "You'll freeze to death in here if you stay a moment longer."

"It's okay. I don't mind it." I whisper, my voice shakier than I would like to admit.

"You're trembling," His hand wraps around my bare arm and it's until now I realize I am cold. I'm not wearing anything thick, just a t-shirt from earlier. "What's wrong?"

I don't know what to say to him. I don't know anything now.

"I—I'm scared." I manage to stammer, my gaze lowering to the ground, far from his. The confession slips out of me, raw and frightening in its honesty.

Zade freezes for a moment, his hand stilling on my arm. "Of what?" He asks, his voice as soft as a whisper and his concern real.

I don't know what I am scared of. The truth? The lack of memory? Or the past I have? I feel trapped in a blizzard, in a storm and it's eating me away.

"I don't know," I shake my head. My chest rises and drops in a constant movement. My heart aches terribly along with my ribs. I feel the pain of the truth seeping into my bones. "I just—am scared."

The sob that has been inside me, tearing at my insides, breaks free, choking me as it forces its way past my trembling lips. The tears I've been holding begin to fall. They stream down my cheeks, hot against my cold skin as, each one of them telling something about the terror coursing through me.

Once I start, I don't stop. I can't. My throat tightens and I whimper.

Zade's reaction is almost immediate. He pulls me towards him, his arms circling my trembling frame but that doesn't helps. Nothing is going to help. His hands, firm, guide me to the bed. Each step feels heavy and I barely feel my legs on the ground.

The tears don't stop. They keep flowing, soaking the front of his skirt. His fingers brush through my hair as he tries to ease my fear. His touch is gentle, his movements slow. Yet, it does little to bury the growing panic within me, to stifle the desperate sobs that leave my throat.

The world blurs around me and I don't know what to do.

My hands clutch onto his shirt, seeking some form calm in the chaos that my life has abruptly become.

"I don't know what's wrong, Aurora," His voice breaks through the haze, his words soft but laced with worry I've never heard before. "Is it because of what happened at the festival? Because I snapped at you?"

"No," I find myself shaking my head, my voice choked. "No, it's not that." The festival and the his brief lapse of control is nothing, it seems like nothing now, just a warning I should've listened to.

I should've stayed away from the truth.

Far, far away.

I want to tell him. I want to pour out what I've seen, what I've become to known. He knows I don't know it, he knows I don't have any memories of it. And now I do too.

I feel his gaze, intense and concerned, burning through me.

"Aurora," he says firmly, his tone commanding, "Look at me."

But I can't. I can't look into his eyes. Those eyes that can delve into my head, eyes that read a mind. I don't want him to. No.

I shake my head and bury my head deeper in his chest, whatever it takes to not meet his eyes. He's silent for a moment, but I can feel him. His presence, his patience. His wait for me to say more. But I can't. The words refuse to leave my lips, they are stuck somewhere deep within me, locked behind the fear of what they could bring.

"I'm not going to read your mind," He slips his hand against my cheek, cupping it lightly as his thumb brushes over tears. "Just look at me. I promise I won't."

I believe him this time. My neck tilts back and I look up at him. My vision's blur but I still manage to catch a sight of his eyes, filled with worry, tenderness.

"Talk to me," He pleads, his hand still cupping my cheek, thumb rubbing soothly circles. His other hand rests on my shoulder, holding as if he's afraid I might shatter. And I just might. "Tell me what's wrong. What happened? What is it?"

"I'm scared. I don't know what's going on." I whisper.

"Of what?" He repeats in a whisper. His eyes flicker down to my cheek and then back to my gaze as he awaits my answer. When he doesn't, he makes his own. "Do you want to go back home? Is that what you want, Aurora? To go back?"

My fingers tighten around the hem of his shirt. I don't know what to say. I have no idea of what's happening to me. Even when I think of considering his question, I can't.

"Tell me," His finger slips under my chin, keeping my head raised. "I'll take you back right now if that's what you want."

I let out a shaky breath and move my head. "No." It comes out quick.

Some part of him eases at my response, and now I know why. Those letters give everything, everything about Zade. But when I think of he has written, it shatters me.

I wished I had killed you, because that would've been better than dying everyday for you and not being able to have you.

"Okay," In a moment, he begins to rise, the heat of his body slipping from my grasp. "Let's go downstairs to your room—"

"No," My voice, small, cuts through his words and I press my hand against his chest. I don't want to leave. Not yet. "Please, I don't want to go."

There's a pause. He looks at my face and then nods, "Alright. We won't go."

His arms part from me for a moment and he lays me down gently over the bed before giving me part of the blanket to keep me from freezing up here. My head tilts to the side where the door is, and even when I don't want to look at it again, I do—straight at the wall.

My name, it's there and I've no memory of it.

The tears gather, hot and heavy, in the corner of my eyes. They slip down my cheeks and soak onto the pillow beneath my head. Before I can stare at the wall any longer, Zade sits in front of me on the bed, blocking the vision.

His hand gently cups my face, tilting my gaze away from the wall and back to him. "Why are you crying?" He whispers, his dark eyes searching my face.

I shake my head, the words caught in my throat. I try to stop, but even then, I can't. A silence settles between us as he studies me for a moment longer, his hand still cradling my face. Then, suddenly, a smile stretches on his face and his hand moves to my hair.

"You know," He begins, his voice light. "If you keep this up, you're going to ruin your this thing that you so arrogantly got. It's getting twisted and I'm not joking." His finger moves over the headpiece I'm wearing on my now tangled hair.

"It's not a thing. It's a crown." I push his hand away from ruining it anymore and straight my hair down.

"It's the ugliest crown I've ever seen." He says in a serious note, his face inches away from mine.

"That's probably because it's the only crown you've ever seen." I respond, holding his gaze while the corners of my mouth lift into a faint smirk.

He scoffs but doesn't says anything. His mouth rests in a firm line and so does mine. The tears nearly dry from my eyes the longer I stare at him. My heart pounds, but not in fear this time.

And then, suddenly, I kiss him.  

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