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Gone.
Bowing his head, shifting me higher in his arms, Henri said softly, “Thank you for allowing me the honour of Rachel’s company, Victor.”
Just like his body, his voice held no life, no spark.
I studied my face, where I hung in his embrace.
No life, no spark.
My eyes might be open, but they didn’t focus.
Lips slack.
I looked dead.
But that couldn’t be.
I floated a little closer, my light-ball heart skipping at the torment on Henri’s face. Beneath his emptiness, the faintest shards of agony gleamed. The longer I stared and saw past his brokenness, the more my heart flurried faster.
I’d never seen a man so…shattered. So damaged.
Lines bracketed his mouth. His eyes aged a million years. A glossiness coated his stare as if every inch of him had filled up with tears he couldn’t spill.
The longer he stood holding me, the more his energy swelled from dread to despair. It billowed in every corner. It howled in every bone. A ferocity kept building, curdling, until the cold draft of his misery sucked me close.
I tried to fight it.
But he was too strong. His soul summoned mine, pleading with me, begging me—
I snapped back into my body.
The floaty, airy feeling of drifting by the ceiling vanished.
I jerked as I settled back into blood and bone.
Heavy and solid, sticky and used.
Henri looked down at me.
The ticking of time stopped.
I bit my lip as the memories my physical body had recorded replayed in crystal clarity.
Henri on his knees behind Rachel.
Henri mounting her with a grunt that sounded as if he’d stabbed himself in the heart.
Henri moving stiffly, unwillingly.
Rachel whispering in my ear that it meant nothing. Henri meant nothing. Victor meant nothing. It was just us. Me and her. Just us. Just us. She’d kept whispering such a thing as Victor orgasmed inside me. His shuddering pulses despicable and his kiss on my shoulder utterly vile.
Henri had torn himself free the moment Victor finished.
Rachel had sagged and pushed her white teddy back into place.
I wanted to console her.
Hug her.
