Free Everdark by Elle Jasper

keep me merciful. They . . . settle me. Does that make sense? I confess, it’s a unique characteristic I didn’t have before tasting your blood. Before part of you entered me, before we were . . . connected.
    “Leave me alone!” I yelled out loud. “I swear to God—I’ll kill you myself!” My heart, although uncharacteristically slow nowadays, beat hard, loud, and my breath hitched as I took the steps two at a time. Just as I kicked off my thigh-high boots and skirt, I heard the back door slam shut.
    “I’m home!” Seth yelled.
    “Okay,” I answered, not wanting him to know how upset I truly was.
    My mind reeling, I peeled out of the rest of my clothes, grabbed a pair of black yoga pants and a sports bra, stretched, and took my frustrations out on my workout bag. I don’t know how long I was at it, but I never did hear Eli enter the apartment, or my room, and God knows how long he’d been standing there, reading my freaking thoughts.
    “You’ve been dreaming of him again,” Eli said, his eyes hard, his voice low, and uncharacteristically accusing. “Haven’t you?”
    I ignored him, my emotions on edge, extended my leg fully and, with a quick snap, kicked the workout bag hanging in my bedroom. I followed it with three sharp jabs. Anger and a little hurt built inside me, and after a few more kicks and rounds of punches, I broke a decent sweat.
    Eli’s strong hands grasped my shoulders and spun me around. “Don’t ignore me, Riley.” He drew his face close to mine. “Don’t.”
    I frowned, totally pissed. “Then don’t accuse me, Eli.” I shook his hands off. “You know I can’t help those dreams. You know it.”
    Eli stared at me several long seconds, then shoved his fingers through his hair, muttered some French expletive, and walked to the window. He looked at some distant point across the river. “You desire him.”
    Anger flashed inside me, and I crossed my arms over my chest. “How freaking old are you, Eli?” I asked. “Sixteen? Oh, no—that’s right. You’re over two hundred.” I walked up behind him, grabbed him by the arm, and turned him around to face me. Brilliant blue eyes searched mine, and I knew he was reading my thoughts; digging through them like a madman was more like it. “You’re acting like a jealous high school boyfriend,” I said, a little more gently. I grazed his jaw with my index finger. “Seriously, Eli.”
    Another handful of seconds dragged by before his face went emotionless, his eyes dulled, those beautiful full lips that worked magic against my body thinned. “You don’t deny it, do you Riley?” His voice held an edge, tinged with a heavier-than-usual bit of French. I’d learned fast that the heavier the accent, the more pissed off Eli Dupré was.
    “Victorian forces the dreams on me,” I said harshly. “Just as he forces the emotions within them.” I stepped closer. “I. Can’t. Help. It.”
    Anger pulled his features tighter. “Do you think this is some game? He is deadly, Riley. Do you think he has feelings for you? Other than obsession? He will drain every ounce of your blood in seconds. Regrets might come after it’s too late.” His eyes grew somber. “I think you enjoy the dreams a little too much,” he said, moving past me. At the door, he stopped, staring straight ahead. “You could have come to me.”
    “What would you have done, Eli?” I said. “You can’t go into my subconscious and change anything. You can’t make him stop.”
    “You don’t know what I can do,” he said angrily. “You didn’t give me a fucking chance.”
    He moved so fast, I didn’t see him actually turn and leave. Only the sound of the back door closing alerted me to his absence.
    I walked to the window overlooking River Street, propped a hip against the ledge, and stared out into the growing darkness. Soon, it would be pitch-black outside—everdark (the Gullah pronounced it evah-dock). It meant, pretty much, everlasting darkness. That was what it