Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
What Songbirds Sing
Erevos
Erevos assumed that his little songbird was afraid to be alone. And while that was true, it wasn’t the whole truth. Lyssena was afraid of the voice she had heard, which was what had startled her so deeply when he returned, and what still unsettled her even now.
This was not good.
His suspicions had been confirmed. There was a demon who knew he had a human, and that knowledge alone made Erevos tighten his fists on Lyssena’s back.
He decided that he would kill that demon, but not now, while Lyssena was scared and tucked close to his chest. He would wait until she was asleep, safe and unaware, and then he would do what must be done.
For now, he would bathe her, because it seemed she did not wish to do it on her own.
Erevos had seen her many times walk into the bathing room in the human realm, always dressed when she entered, and dressed again when she left.
He did not understand why humans would bathe in their clothes, but then there were many human habits he had never fully understood and never much cared to question.
Perhaps she undressed within, bathed, and then dressed again in clean clothing, but why bring the clean garments into the bathing space? That remained a mystery to him, one of many.
Either way, his Lyssena had not undressed now, and that made the situation more complicated than it needed to be. He thought she understood by now that he only wanted to care for her, to keep her safe, to provide her with comfort in every way he knew how.
Lyssena fascinated him beyond meaning; her devotion, her soul, the very essence of her being consumed his thoughts like nothing else ever had.
And she made him feel heat—a strange, burning warmth that stirred beneath his skin—just like she did now, nestled once more in his arms, allowing herself to be held.
Much like he was, Lyssena was a curious creature. She stared at the pool of water with such intensity, her brows drawn tightly together, that Erevos felt a growing eagerness to ease her into it and bathe her.
They were different and so much alike.
So he stepped toward the edge, waded into the dark water, and lowered both himself and Lyssena until he was seated fully within it, the surface rising to his ribs while she remained cradled in his arms.
For some reason, Lyssena’s eyes grew wider with every inch he lowered them, her gaze darting around the room, her breath quickening with each passing second.
The water was warm and inviting, so much so that even a demon like Erevos, emotionless by nature and untouched by most sensations, found himself feeling something close to comfort.
He had studied humans bathing in hot springs, observed the steam and the satisfaction on their faces, and had taken it upon himself to learn what made the water stay warm—how it worked, how it felt.
And once he understood, he had recreated it here, in their home, mimicking everything down to the minerals and heat. It had taken a long time to perfect; it wasn’t easy to make water from shadow, but he had managed it, as he always did, because Erevos was, quite simply, a very intelligent demon.
“Is the water too hot?” he asked his little songbird, noting the way she now shielded her chest with her arms, and that was when he realized that the white gown she wore had turned sheer where the fabric touched the water.
Erevos hummed thoughtfully.
“No, the water . . . is fine. Thank you. Just . . . ” Lyssena mumbled, voice small and tight, and Erevos, wanting her to feel more confident, decided to do what had comforted her before.
He placed her on his lap just like he had when she’d eaten, holding her thigh gently, exactly as he had done then. Perhaps familiarity would soothe her.
Well, it did not.
The moment he had a full view of her, now pressed lightly against him and lit by the dim light above the pool, Lyssena shrieked.
Perhaps his human was still uncertain, and of course, she would be. How foolish of Erevos to think Lyssena could feel entirely comfortable without even having a proper conversation first. She had spent her time here afraid, or asleep, or eating, barely getting to know him at all.
Conversation was important.
He wanted to understand her, but he also wanted to be understood, and more than anything, he wanted to hear the questions she still hadn’t asked.
So he began with one of his own.
“You wanted to ask me, Lyssena,” he said, his gaze shifting slowly between her eyes.
Erevos did not fully understand what the word beautiful meant.
He had heard humans use it to describe flowers, sunsets, even one another.
But he did understand the idea of a beautiful soul, and Lyssena’s was just that.
Perhaps, if her soul was beautiful, then she was beautiful too. “What was your question before?”
Lyssena went still.
“Oh,” she breathed, the sound soft and uncertain as her gaze flicked upward, first toward the cave ceiling, then toward the dim gray orb that floated above them. “You’ve called me a songbird,” she said slowly. “Why?”
Erevos reached with his free hand to take hers, small and damp from the water, as she sat on his thigh, no longer as tense as before.
“A songbird in your world,” he began, feeling the gentle heat that spread from the base of his palm where their skin touched, “is a creature caged . . . yet taken care of, Lyssena.”
His claws traced lightly over her fingers, making her heart flutter wildly inside her chest.
Erevos did not have eyes like hers—no irises, no pupils, no colors—but the dark expanse of purple where his gaze lived was locked onto her heartbeat, watching how it thumped in her chest, how it pulsed in her throat, how it flickered against the wrist he now held so delicately in his large, shadow-dark hand, his black skin seeming to swallow hers whole.
“Am I . . . in a cage now too?” she asked, and her words made Erevos pause.
Was she?
Had he simply exchanged one prison for another, even if this one was wrapped in comfort and shadows and care? How different was her life now, truly, now that she was with him?
She was being fed—she was never hungry then. She had a space of her own—again, she had one in there as well. It hadn’t even been a full day yet, and Erevos had so much planned for his little songbird, so many ideas and spaces and comforts he wanted to build for her.
But how could he ever claim she was free if she could not do as she pleased?
In the human world, she had been able to step outside, and that particular truth concerned him deeply. Here, in The Void, there was no oxygen, no air for her lungs to draw in, no atmosphere in which she could survive.
And that was a very big problem if Erevos wanted Lyssena to truly be as she wished. To thrive, not merely survive. He would need to find a solution.
And then he did.
Oh, what a glorious solution he had in mind. So clever, so perfect, that it made his mouth curl into a slow, widening grin.