Chapter 30
Until he saw Analise in the flesh, Ezra thought the image that lived behind his eyes had grown from a drug-induced garden.
Her face wasn’t always there, it would appear every now and again, like a pulse of light, then fade, leaving him wondering if he’d imagined her.
That night he’d found her in Lira’s pub left him questioning what was real and what wasn’t.
But the feeling of her flesh on his, her body beneath him—that had been real.
But that moment felt like it didn’t belong to him anymore. The fucking Devil put her face in his head. Did that mean what he felt for her was a lie? Had the Devil managed to manipulate his emotions as well?
Ezra shook his head. He had absolutely no way of knowing. He’d been a fucking tool for the Fallen One, a pawn in a game he didn’t understand and didn’t willingly partake in. Even though he hadn’t remembered meeting the Devil, he’d done what he’d been asked.
He’d found a death witch.
Most people couldn’t control how they died, but maybe Ezra could.
The fact that Analise didn't want to kill him was proof she cared about him. He needed to convince her. He could hear the ticking of a clock with his face on it, and couldn’t spend the rest of his life hiding in the Canem Club, hoping whatever tricks the Order had at their disposal kept him free of the Devil's clutches.
This would be easier if Analise still hated him.
He didn’t think he could convince her to do it for science, or to sate her own curiosity, so maybe it was time to be the arsehole she once believed he was.
Could he hurt her? Be aloof and indifferent to her, objectify her? Use her? He was selfish enough to do it. It didn’t mean he had to enjoy it. It meant she had to believe him enough to be willing to experiment on him.
He found her in her usual seat in the main bar. Light eased through the window, painting her in dusty gold. She was reading a newspaper, turning the pages slowly. A cup of tea rested by her elbow.
‘Do you want to know how many death witches I caught?’ he asked bluntly.
She didn’t raise her head. ‘Not really.’
‘At least fifty, maybe more. I lost count after a while.’ He sat opposite her, leaning back in his chair and resting one leg over the other.
‘That’s a lot,’ Analise commented mildly. The paper rustled as she turned another page, but he could tell she wasn’t reading.
‘They weren’t hard to find,’ he went on. ‘They made it easy, like they wanted to be caught. Perhaps they’d worked out there was no place for them anymore.’
‘Hmmm.’ Analise picked up her tea and sipped it.
‘You know what I liked the most about hunting them down? The hunting part. Really, they weren’t much more than animals.’
‘Stop.’
‘Why? It’s the truth. Don’t you want to hear the truth?’ he asked. ‘You want to know why I touched you, really? It was a little experiment of my own, see? I was intrigued to find out if there truly was a woman beneath the animal.’
Analise closed the newspaper. ‘I know what you’re trying to do, Ezra. You think if you make me angry, I’ll do what you want. It might have worked once—but now, I know you don’t mean it.’
He stared at her, vision wavering. ‘You don’t know me.’
‘I know you’re scared,’ she said gently. ‘And scared people do desperate things, or so I’m beginning to understand.’
Ezra said nothing.
‘We’ll find another way,’ she promised.
‘What other way, Analise?’ he shouted, sitting forward abruptly. The words tore from his throat, shocking the both of them. His voice echoed around the bar, filled with anger and pain and fear, and he didn’t care if she knew how he was feeling.
‘You heard what Lira said,’ Ezra mumbled, sitting back again. His fingers curled into fists where they rested on the table.
Analise reached for his hand; he ripped it away.
If she touched him, he’d cry.
‘We’ll find another way.’
With a dark laugh, Ezra got up and stalked away, kicking a chair.
It tipped and fell into another, and the sound it made, that violent crack, pummelled its way like a fist into his brain and he snapped.
He kicked two chairs and upended a table before Analise was there, standing between him and the next piece of furniture he’d chosen as his target.
His chest was heaving, face hot, hands clenched at his side. All he felt was despair. He couldn’t even be angry for long. He only had himself to blame, after all.
‘Ezra—’
‘If you won’t help me, leave me alone,’ he muttered, keeping his eyes down as he left the room.
Analise had spent the last few weeks not only trying to learn about her magic, but observing the people around her, watching how they moved, listening to the changing tone of their voices, and noting the different expressions on their faces.
She’d learnt their tells—a twist of the mouth could either mean distaste or pleasure, depending on the context.
A shrug could be a means of avoiding something, or nonchalance because they didn’t know how else to react.
Eye contact was the biggest tell of them all. It was vulnerable and brave, intrusive at times. With Ezra that morning, with the horrible things he was hinting at, his eyes had remained vulnerable and full of pain. His mask had slipped, and he couldn’t put it back on.
He thought he was running out of time, the seconds of his life slipping past too quickly for him to grab hold of.
As currency, time was more valuable than people realised.
Analise needed more of it as well. She needed more hours in the day, more moments where she could stop and think and try to work out what to do.
Maybe she should do what he wanted … but the idea of not being able to bring him back was terrifying. Rats were one thing, Familiars—they were people she didn't know and had no meaningful connection with, save their shared humanity, but Ezra …
He meant something, and they’d come too far for her to risk him.
Was that selfish, though? It wasn’t her life being used as collateral in a wager with the Devil. Analise was the prize, and couldn’t begin to figure out why.
The day passed quickly and slowly in the same instant. It felt like days, weeks, since she watched Ezra trash a room. After he left the bar, she’d set the table right and picked up the chairs, surprised to find none of them broken, but she suspected he didn’t want to break anything.
Except himself.
Worry burnt the back of her throat. Where was he? He hadn’t answered his door, hadn’t been in the kitchen, the lab … it was like he’d vanished.
Analise abandoned her dinner, rushing from the kitchen into the crowded front bar. She stood on tip-toes, scanning the crowd, but there was no sign of Ezra in the sea of brown and grey and battered hats. A smiling man tried to talk to her, she shook her head and pushed past him.
Ezra was sitting on the top of the stairs leading to their rooms, head resting against the wall. He stood when she approached, so she hurried to catch him before he could disappear somewhere. Her hand closed over his arm; he stiffened, and then relaxed.
‘I was worried about you,’ she said.
He turned to look at her, forcing a smile. It didn’t last long, slipping from his face as quickly as it appeared. ‘Analise—’
‘Can we argue about your death tomorrow, please?’
Ezra pulled his hands through his hair. He looked like he was about to be torn in half. She couldn’t stand it, but didn’t know how to tell him he meant something to her. She leant against the wall, watching him watch her.
Eventually, he took a step forward, then another, until he was close enough to touch. ‘I need you to—’
‘Ezra—’
‘Kiss me, Analise. If you’re not going to kill me, then please kiss me,’ he whispered. ‘I need to feel something other than fear. I need to think about something other than demons, the Devil, and the end of the fucking world.’
Analise’s breath caught. She placed her hands on his chest. His heartbeat fluttered under her fingertips; rhythmic and alive, and something in her blood stirred, something deep and equally alive.
She curled her fingers in his shirt and hauled him to her.
The moment their lips crashed together was the moment she knew she was utterly lost and there would be no coming back from this.
Ezra kissed her until she couldn’t breathe.
His mouth was hungry, desperate, and she kissed him back with everything she had.
They fell into his room, and she tore her clothes off before he had the door shut.
His eyes darkened as they skimmed her body.
He crossed the floor in two strides, pulling her into his arms. His head rested in the crook of her neck, his breath hot and ragged on her skin.
She ran her hands over the broad sweep of his shoulders, down his arms. She wanted him: his fingers, his mouth, that tongue of his.
He went to pull away but she tightened her grip on his arms. His jaw twitched as his expression shifted so quickly it was impossible for her to untangle the storm of emotions there.
Her thumbs stroked his skin. He exhaled, some of the tension fleeing his shoulders as he pressed his forehead gently against hers.
‘Ezra,’ she whispered. ‘Take what you need from me. Whatever you need, take it.’
His breath hitched and his fingers tightened on her hips.
It was an offering, one that she’d never made to anyone before. The fact she did it so willingly scared her and she wanted to take it back, but didn’t. This wasn’t about her. It was about him.
‘Whatever you need,’ she repeated. Ezra didn’t move for a long moment, until his finger slid beneath her chin, tipping her face to his so he could look at her.
His eyes flickered over her cautiously, the intimacy in this moment as foreign to him as it was to her.
Eventually, the corner of his mouth lifted.
‘I need to taste you again,’ he murmured. ‘On the bed, legs spread, Analise.’
Oh fuck. The way he breathed her name …
Her instinct was to refuse, to be defiant, but she did what she was told.
Trembling, she inched her way backwards towards the pillows, not taking her eyes off him as he undressed.
How had this man, who she’d known for such a short period of time, managed to get under her skin? When did she decide to care about him?
The answer came swiftly. When he made it obvious that he cared about her.
Her muscles liquified when he crawled up the bed until he was resting over her, his weight on his elbows. Ezra kissed her again, hard enough to bruise her mouth.
‘You’re not allowed to come until I tell you,’ he commanded.
She nodded mutely.
‘Good girl.’ He kissed her chin, down her throat, lips skimming over her torso, her breasts.
She gasped, arching her back as his mouth closed over her nipple.
His smug chuckle vibrated against her skin as he moved down her body, so excruciatingly slowly that by the time his mouth was between her thighs she was panting and on fire.
‘Not until I tell you.’ He was relentless, teasing with tongue and lips, with his teeth and his fingers moving inside her.
Analise could barely see, her hands clutching the sheet.
Every stroke of his tongue, every press of his lips was so intense it was painful, yet she held her orgasm back, thighs trembling.
Sweat rolled down the side of her face into her hair, and when she ran her hands over her breasts, they were wet with it. She whimpered.
‘You want me to stop?’ Ezra asked.
‘No, yes—I don’t know.’
He nipped her inner thigh, the sharpness of his teeth making her jump, before climbing up and over her. She reached for him eagerly, and as his weight settled against her, she groaned in pure relief.
He wrapped her leg around his hip, then kissed her, letting her taste herself on his tongue, before he eased inside her.
Each torturously slow thrust of his hips drove him deeper.
His mouth was on her throat, lips and tongue lapping flesh, and his hand palmed her breast, her nipple between his fingers.
It was too much. ‘Ezra … please.’
His fingers tangled in her hair, angling her head so he could see her face. ‘Let go.’
Heat washed through her as her stomach muscles tightened, and she squeezed her thighs around him.
He watched her face as her orgasm rolled through her, so powerful it was violent.
She breathed his name, over and over. Her legs flopped at her sides as she lay there, trembling and panting and blown to pieces.
Ezra let her catch her breath, then, ‘My turn.’
With his fingers in her hair, and his other hand gripping her thigh, he pounded into her.
Analise gave herself over completely as Ezra chased his release, following her over the edge with a groan.
They didn’t speak, lying in a sweaty tangle.
She was paper-thin, shredded, the world turned to shattered glass around her.
‘Ez,’ she managed faintly. ‘Ez, you’re heavy.’
‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, moving off her. Analise sat up. His fingers brushed her back gently, then fell away. She got dressed and left, wanting to stay, but not knowing how.