Chapter Eight

By the time the storm hit its peak, it was noon, but it felt like we’d been stuck there for days. The rain hammered the windows, loud enough to drown out my thoughts. Wind whistled through the cracks in the lodge, making everything feel colder. We’d been sitting in the lab for hours, surrounded by broken glass, spilled samples, and overturned tables. No one spoke. No one moved. I think we were all waiting for someone else to break the silence.

Jamie stood up. He winced as he straightened, one hand gripping the chair for support, his injured leg dragging behind him. His hands shook as he gathered the scattered papers and stacked them neatly on the table.

Kim got up next. She didn’t say a word. She grabbed the broom and started sweeping up the glass. The scraping sound filled the room, louder than I expected.

Trevor snuffed out his cigarette, muttering something I didn’t catch. He picked up the knocked-over chairs. Even Jonathan, who always had a smug comment for every situation, quietly gathered what was left of the equipment. Cleaning gave everyone something to focus on besides the fear. It was easier than thinking about what we’d seen.

I stayed where I was, brushing my hands against my neck again. The marks burned faintly, like a warning I couldn’t understand. The others moved around the room slowly, their faces blank and haunted.

When the lab was as clean as it was going to get, they drifted out one by one. Trevor left first, his boots heavy on the floorboards. Kim followed him with the broom in her hand. Jamie was the last to leave, limping and leaning against the wall for support. Even Jonathan, who usually made a show of being the last to leave, walked out like he couldn’t get away fast enough.

I didn’t move right away. The room felt empty now, despite the faint glow of the algae jars in the corner. My eyes wandered to the cages where three mice huddled. They barely twitched, their tiny bodies pressed together like they were too scared or too tired to move.

Willy was off by himself in a smaller cage. His patchy fur and the way he curled up made it seem like he didn’t want to be seen. I walked over to him, trying to keep my movements steady.

I set the other two mice on a table that hadn’t been smashed. Willy’s food dish was empty, so I grabbed the pellets from the shelf and filled it. At first, he didn’t move. He stayed huddled in the corner. Then his nose twitched, and he started nibbling.

“Good boy,” I murmured. It sounded stupid, but it made me feel better. Talking to him was easier than dealing with the silence.

For a while, I just watched him eat. His tiny paws moved quickly. His breathing was uneven but steady. Watching something alive, surviving, felt like it mattered.

I turned off the overhead light before I left. The algae jars glowed faintly in the dark. The door creaked as I pulled it shut behind me, the sound blending with the endless rain outside.

Once in my room, I shut the door and let out a shaky breath. My hand went to my neck, brushing over the marks. They felt warm, like they had a pulse of their own. His mouth, his teeth, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way he’d held me, so possessively, like I wasn’t a person, just something to claim. It wasn’t just a memory. It felt like he’d left a piece of himself behind.

I sat on the bed, my fingers tracing the marks. They throbbed, as if they wanted me to remember. After a minute, I stood and went to the mirror, tilting my head to look.

Three dark crescents stared back. They didn’t look like regular bruises; they looked carved in. My stomach twisted. I wanted to hate them, hate him for putting them there. But a tiny part of me didn’t. A tiny part of me liked them. And I hated myself for that.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to shake off the feeling. Maybe it was fear. Or something worse, curiosity, longing. I felt sick, but I couldn’t deny it. He was still there, in the shadows, just out of sight. Watching. Waiting.

And that kiss, if you could call it that. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t kind. He didn’t ask; he took. Like it was his right. He filled my lungs with himself. A claim that settled in my chest and wouldn’t let go. I could still feel it, that thread tying me to him, pulling me back no matter how hard I tried to forget.

I sank onto the bed, my eyes drifting to the window as I clutched my mom’s necklace. The storm raged outside, wind and rain battering the glass. I don’t know when I fell asleep. One moment I was staring into the dark, the next, I was sinking into water, black as ink, endless in every direction.

The algae’s glow flickered weakly, a thin thread of light struggling to survive. It barely pushed back the darkness, just enough to show how vast it was. Then his eyes appeared. Two black pits, opening slowly, pulling me in like a rip current. Resistance felt pointless, a formality my body couldn’t maintain.

I tried to move. Nothing happened. The water coiled around me, clinging to every inch of skin, keeping me still. He drew closer, and my chest tightened, a need to gasp swelling inside me even though I didn’t need to breathe.

When he finally emerged from the shadows, my mind stalled. He was beautiful in a way that didn’t belong here. His pale, almost glowing skin rippled with sharp ridges along his neck and shoulders, like the sea had shaped him with a cruel, careful hand. Fins spread along his back and arms, the delicate webs shifting as though alive.

His hands hovered near my waist, claws poised, promising ruin. A tremor rolled through me, heat pooling low in my stomach. His fingers grazed my hips, the cold bite making me shudder. It wasn’t pain I knew how to name. It was something raw, a whisper of danger my body shouldn’t crave.

He leaned in, his face inches from mine. The cold of his breath brushed my lips, sharp and biting. He didn’t hesitate. His mouth crashed onto mine, taking, claiming, devouring. There was no gentleness. No permission. Just possession.

My lips gave way to him, caught in the pull of his demand. His tongue explored my mouth with a possessiveness that made my pulse quicken. A molten heat pooled inside me, driving me closer, though my mind clawed at the edges, desperate to stop.

He broke away just enough to speak and his voice came as a low growl against my lips. “Mine.”

The word sent fire through me. He trailed his mouth down my neck, his teeth scraping sensitive skin. My breath caught, each inhale shallow and shaky. When his teeth sank in, pain flared, sharp, electric, then melted into something hotter, deeper. A gasp tore from me, part shock, part desperate want.

Heat flooded every nerve, my body arching against him. His tongue traced the marks, slow and deliberate, each stroke setting me alight. My fingers dug into his arms, caught between pulling him closer and pushing him away.

He didn’t stop. His teeth held me there, his grip unyielding, like he was savoring every tremor that wracked my body. Thought dissolved. All that was left was his mouth, his hands, and the ache spreading through me.

Finally, he pulled back, his eyes meeting mine. Dark. Endless. Claiming me completely.

And I let him.