Malric’s Pov
I am going mad.
Watching her press those soft lips to my son's cheek, Caleb’s cheek… I feel something inside me break and re-form into a thing that only knows hunger. It is ugly and bright and it wants to bury the world and keep her buried with it.
I promised myself I would stop. I swore the feeling would die. Calm would come back. I was a fool to think I could bargain with this heat. I am a fool for standing in the shadows while she plucks the harp and smiles like the sun belongs to her.
Maybe I am a psycho. Maybe that is what this is called: obsession. Delilah. Her name tastes like iron and honey at once.
Tommy whimpers beside me, all chains and torn cloth. He thinks pleading can erase what he did. He thinks ignorance is an excuse. He doesn't understand the language of
