Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
If the rumors about Master Idhron and Eridan had been true, Idhron should have liked his attire.
And yet there was no lust in Idhron’s cold eyes. Instead, there was something almost hateful in them.
Javier licked his lips. “Do you want me to leave, Master?”
Another long, terrible silence.
Finally, Idhron said, “No.” He motioned toward the armchair by his desk. “Go sit there.”
Confused, Javier did as he was told.
He looked expectantly at the Grandmaster, waiting for more orders, but there were none. The man seemingly returned to his work, paying him no attention.
No, that wasn’t correct: he could feel that part of Idhron’s attention was always on him, Idhron’s telepathic presence agitated and tense. It made goosebumps run up Javier’s spine, and not the pleasant kind. He felt like he was in a room with a dangerous beast that might attack him any moment.
The tension built, and built, and built until Javier felt almost sick to his stomach.
His fear seemed to anger the man even more, his telepathic presence becoming darker. Scarier.
“Get out,” Idhron bit out.
Javier flinched so badly he nearly fell out of the chair. “Master?” he said uncertainly.
“Get out,” Idhron snapped, his eyes blazing as his telepathic presence lashed out.
It felt like he was struck with a huge wave of ice-cold water. Javier staggered out of the room, gasping for air and so damn scared he nearly wet himself.
He slammed the door shut and literally ran out of the house.
He ran and ran until he could breathe normally again, and the nauseating feeling of wrong inside him finally disappeared.
What the hell was that?
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Rewritten
He’s walking through the Initiates’ Hall. Everywhere he goes, other initiates give him hostile looks, exuding jealousy, bitterness, and resentment.
Eridan knows there must be a reason for that, but try as he might, he can’t remember. All he knows is that no one wants to be his friend. Others talk about him behind his back, speaking in derisive, bitter tones, and fall silent when he approaches them.
He just wants a friend. One friend. Is that too much to ask?
He just wants to have someone who will want him around, who will care for him.
Someone who will like him.
Someone just his.
But there is no one. There will be no one for years and years and years until his brother comes back for him.
***
A mouth slams against his, a tongue forcing its way into his mouth.
Nauseated, he bites hard on the tongue, causing Tethru to howl and remove his vile mouth. “You little piece of shit,” Tethru hisses, grabbing his hair and yanking his head aside. He latches onto Eridan’s neck, biting so hard Eridan cries out in pain. Tethru laughs, shoving him against the wall. “Cry. I like it when little boys cry.” He grinds his erection against Eridan’s stomach. “Can’t wait to stick it into your cunt.”
“Help!”
Tethru laughs. “No one will come. No one will hear you. By the time I’m done with you, you will be sloppy with my semen, and no one will ever want you.”
Panic, rage, and disgust fills his senses, his vision going red, and before Eridan knows what he is doing, Tethru’s making strangled noises.
And then he is dead.
Eridan shoves the body away, shaking so badly he feels like crawling out of his skin. He feels dirty. He is dirty.
A murderer. He killed him. He killed a person.
Eridan sinks to the floor as his knees give out. He hugs his knees and rocks himself back and forth, staring at the dead body in horror, tears blurring his vision.
He will be arrested and locked up for this. He killed the Grandmaster. He is dirty. Dirty, dirty, dirty.
The door opens—
And no one enters.
There is no one there.
No one will help him.
No one will hold him or comfort him.
He is alone. There is only him and the body.
Eridan woke up with a sob, breathing hard and shaking uncontrollably.
Just a dream, he told himself. Just another nightmare about something that had happened ages ago.
He hugged his pillow to his chest, trying to breathe through his panic and only succeeding in short, sharp gulps.
It was all right. He was all right.
He was all right.
***
Warrehn stopped pacing when Ksar entered the room. “Thanks for coming on such short notice,” he said. “I know you’re busy.”
Ksar just gave a nod, his silver eyes flickering toward the closed door to Eridan’s room. “I’m not sure I can help him. What you described sounds like a severe case of depression. That’s not exactly something I can fix.”
Frustrated, Warrehn ran a hand over his face. “I know. But can you at least try, see what’s wrong with him? He refuses to talk about what’s bothering him and doesn’t want me to see what’s inside his mind. I want to know if Idhron damaged him somehow when he erased his memories.”
Ksar gave him a steady look. “Did your brother actually agree to this?”