Page 115 of Elysian

Movement caught my eye. Tawny hair came into view. I bolted toward him. Cassiel’s back was to me, his head lowered, hands in his hair.

“Cassiel?” I whispered.

He didn’t move. I reached out. As soon as I touched his back, he whirled with a snarl.

“You,” he snarled, teeth and fangs bared.

He looked at me with such disgust, then grabbed my arms, pulling me flush against his front. The small blade flew out of my hold. That look on his face was not disgust as I had thought. It was agony. Muscles strained in his features as if they had never twisted in such a manner.

His eyes . . . a thin layer of film had covered them.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Fog

His hands flexed around my arms until they hurt.

“Why have you been so cold toward me?” Cassiel asked, his voice harsh. He shook me enough for it to pinch. “You never look at me with the kindness you grant others. You never care for me the same way.” His voice wavered. “Why do you retreat from me?”

A flash of anger tightened his lips.

“Let me go.”

“I cannot,” he murmured. “I cannot and will not let you go.” One hand reached for my face. “I know I have no right to keep you, but I will.” His voice turned into a whisper. “Please, love me.” His voice wilted at the end, features crumpling.

“Cassiel.” I blinked, astounded.

“I do not know how to express my thoughts—what I am feeling.” He slammed his fist against his chest.

This emotion was not like him. His immovable facade had utterly broken, and it left me stunned. “I . . .” I shook my head.

“I know what I have done to us is my fault.” His eyebrows furrowed, and he let out a visceral, choked sound. “How I harmed you.” He dropped to his knees, bringing us to a closer eye level. I was so stunned that I could not move.

Cassiel grabbed at his chest, and the fog following each move veiled what he grasped. “Kill me.” He pressed the blade into my hand, forcing the silver against his throat. A black, inky line welled.

I floundered for words, attempting to pull the blade away. His maddened eyes moved side to side.

“I harmed you. Many times. I broke your body. I called you vile names,” he hissed. He almost seemed angry. “Just do it. I refuse to live without your care.”

I grasped for words, confused and stricken in the face of such emotion.

“You said you did not care for my love,” I accused. “You forced me into accepting you as my husband.”

“I want your love,” he whispered, his hands shaking. He seemed to deflate, curling forward over his legs as a sob wracked his frame. It tore at the last barrier I had built. “I tore myself apart for you. And I will do it over again. If that brought a smile to your face, I would do it.”

Another sound gusted from his throat. He continued dragging himself over the shards of stone, leaving behind streams of black blood.

He clawed at his chest. “I will give it to you.” His fingers pierced flesh, and blood burst.

“Cassiel!” I gripped his wrists.

It managed to rip me out of the pressing feelings crowding inside me. The fog was affecting me too. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the sounds of Cassiel sobbing.

I squeezed the grip of the blade and cut my hand hard enough for it to grow numb.

Blood welled, but the act did as it was supposed to. It ripped me out of the feelings of hurt and betrayal that resided in the recesses of my mind. Cassiel continued sobbing, his body curled forward. I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Cassiel, look at me.”