Page 10 of Molt

“I know.”

“That’s not comforting.” I say folding my arms over my chest.

“I know.”

“Stop saying that.”

His mouth closes.

I look past him, his apartment is dark. Almost completely. Heavy curtains cover the windows. Boxes line one wall. There’s shelves everywhere. Books. Old photographs. Glass. So much glass.

My eyes narrow…is that–Jars.

What the fuck?

There’s dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. Some tiny. Some large. All labeled.

August realizes what I’m looking at and he steps sideways.

Too late asshole.

“What are those?” I ask trying to look over his shoulder.

“Nothing.” He shifts.

“Bullshit.”

“Go downstairs.” He orders.

I move toward the door but he blocks me. “Move.” I demand.

“No.”

“Move.” I say again, holding my ground.

“Lenora.” He warns and I shove him but he catches my wrist. And then suddenly at the exact moment his skin touches mine, everything disappears.

The hallway. The apartment. The floor beneath my feet.

For one impossible second, I’m somewhere else.

Candles. Hundreds of them. A man’s hands covered in blood.

My hands.

No–his.

Someone screaming. August screaming. And my voice whispering into his ear. “I love you.”

Then I’m thrusted back into the present.

I rip my arm away and he stumbles backward like I hit him.

I blink as my heart pounds against my chest. “What the fuck was that?”

He doesn’t answer.

I look up at him and his face has gone white. “August.” I whisper, trying not to startle him.