krydwen

Where mystery meets romance...

—Excerpt—
We lay next to each other, both of us not saying a thing, but I feel comfortable. I don’t have the impulse to have to talk to him to avoid an awkward silence because it has never been awkward with Ash, I realise. 

“You asleep?” he whispers to me. 

“Nope,” I reply quietly. “It’s weird because my body is so tired but I can’t seem to shut my brain off.” 

“Me neither,” he says. I hear the crackling of the fresh sheet under us move and realise Ash has turned to face me.  

“Uhm, what?” I ask dubiously. 

“Nothing, I’m just trying to find a comfortable position.” 

“Okay,” I say as I stare at him in the dim glow of the candles. 

Ash stares back at me, his hand lifts to push away a strand of hair that has fallen into my eyes, then he closes his eyes. He is asleep in the next moment, with his hand frozen on my cheek. 

Usually, with anyone else, I would push his hand away because it feels wrong and uncomfortable. But his caress felt good against the slight burn on my skin. And as he rests his hand on my cheek, I can’t help but think about how no one has ever held me close to them and makes me feel this way. Even though Ash and I are far from holding each other close, just a touch of his hand comforts me in ways that others’ hugs have tried and failed. 

Without much thinking, I push Ash’s fallen hair out of his eyes and rest my hand against his cheek. In the next moment, as my eyes start to droop, I feel a pull of his cheek against my palm and realise he is smiling. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

When an apartment building is plagued by a strange substance in its water, its residents uncover a foreboding mystery that will perish them all. With a deadly fog that blocks their escape, they must now forget their differences and work together to overcome the horrifying events that ultimately threaten their survival.

Black In the Water

<p>I wake in the familiarity of complete darkness. No—not complete darkness, a sliver of amber light shines through from the crack under the door. But it's not my door—at least— not the bedroom I have been waking up in for the last few days. This bedroom has a different orientation, this bed—which, on second thought, feels like a different mattress than mine—is on the left side of the door, opposite of where mine sits. I check my whole body for injuries but there doesn't seem to be any deep wounds. My throat is parched and the skin on my face and neck feels raw, but other than that, nothing else feels wrong.</p>

<p>Then I make the mistake of lifting my hand, stretching the skin around my wrists, which disturbs the bandage they are in. Deep stinging pain immediately attacks the wounded spot and I see dark stains on the white bandage start expanding. Shit—I must have reopened the wound. Which gets me questioning—who took care of me and bandaged up my wounds? </p>

Apartment 22. The Huntsman. Hunter