Page 20 of Molt

“Like you’re grieving.”

The words land exactly where she intended.

I straighten. “You should go.”

“No.”

“Lenora.” I warn.

“No. If you’re not going to tell me anything, I’m looking myself.” She turns toward the shelves.

I move before I think.

My hand closes around her arm and the world fractures. Again.

Her breath catches.

Mine disappears.

This memory is stronger.

Rain. A bedroom. Gas lamps. Lenora beneath me.

Not this Lenora.

Another.

Dark curls spread across a pillow. Her hands framing my face. Her mouth swollen from kissing me. She’s laughing.

“Again,” she whispers.

“You’re insatiable.”

“Only for you.”

Then pain.

My chest opens. Not metaphorically.

Skin separates down the center of my sternum.

I scream.

She screams with me.

Her fingers dig into my shoulders and something moves beneath her skin.

My ribs. My fucking ribs growing inside her.

The memory snaps.

I throw myself backward.

Lenora hits the shelf causing the jars to rattle.

“What was that?”

“Go home.” I growl, shaking my head as I get my bearings.