13 #2
My palms slid over him, skin to skin now.
“You’re staring,” he said, voice rough with affection.
“Of course I’m staring. You’re exquisite.”
“‘Exquisite’?” He shook his head, a smile growing on his lips. “When you talk to me like that, you’re far more dangerous than any demonic voice,” he murmured, a low rasp that sent another shiver through my bones.
“And you’re too tempting for your own good,” I whispered back, barely able to form words.
He leaned in, brushing featherlight kisses along the edge of my jaw, a surprising gesture that felt intimate and reverent.
As though he was committing each part of me to memory.
I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation of his breath against my skin.
When our lips met again, it was gentler, sweeter.
Like the aftertaste of a powerful storm.
He drew away from my lips after a few blissful minutes, pressing his forehead to mine as he closed his eyes.
Our shadows mingled over our bodies in a delightful rhythm, sensing our newfound tranquility.
They trailed along his bare torso, roving across his flawless skin.
They also wound around my legs, which were very much not covered up by my nightgown.
Wonderfully, I didn’t mind. Erebus made me feel safe.
Safe and desired.
I gently scratched my nails down his arms, enjoying the shiver it coaxed from him, and followed the swirls of shadow as they slowly coiled around his pale neck. His mouth opened slightly, surely a breath away from a delicious-sounding groan.
“You mean so much to me, Esmer. I cannot fathom how I ever lived without you.”
“I feel the same,” I whispered.
I leaned in, desperate to feel his lips on mine again.
The shadows mirrored me, pressing closer.
“Choke him,” commanded the voice. “Wrap your shadows around his throat.”
My sword thrummed under my palm, a jarring warning. It was about to strike—to surge from my palm and into his neck. I cried out, slamming my palms against Erebus’s chest, but the shadows had already heeded the betrayal. They clung to his neck, squeezing tight.
Erebus grasped at the shadows, arms straining as he fought to pull them away.
“Esmer,” he choked out, eyes wide in disbelief. “What are you—”
I grabbed for the shadows, too, desperately willing them away, but they wouldn’t listen.
They were on his arms, wrists, legs. More shadows were poised at his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.
Waiting to rip him apart from within. To find his soul, a beautiful constellation of starlight and shadow, and pluck it from his body like a ripe piece of fruit.
“Let him go!” I screamed. “No, no, no—”
“Let me in and I will let go,” the voice—the demon—purred.
My sword, a traitorous, terrible thing, prickled again under my palm.
In another blink, it was in my hands, blade sharp and shining.
Shadows wrapped around my wrist, squeezing it as if they were a vise.
I struggled against the pressure, but the shadows were stronger.
They squeezed my wrist tighter, nearly snapping the bone, and forced the tip of the blade to press into the center of Erebus’s chest.
Blood, dark as ink and filled with shadow, spilled from his skin.
His beautiful silver eyes were losing their light.
“Quickly, now,” urged the voice. “A death by a demon, even in a dream, is permanent. How glorious that demons now have such power.”
What do you want from me? I thought back, hysterical tears spilling down my face.
“Follow my pull and I will release him.”
You didn’t answer my question, I spat, voice teeming with venom even in my mind.
“I want you to help me remake the world, Shadow Weaver.” I could feel the demon’s lips slide back. Almost as if they were pressed against my ear. “I could give you so much power. You would be unstoppable.”
An image flashed behind my eyes. I could see myself in the future, cold and regal.
An immortal queen sitting on a gilded throne in Noctis and a starlit throne in the Dream Realm.
Two thrones: one physical, one eternal. There was an ominous shadow towering behind me, holding my shoulders with clawed hands.
Elliot was there, too, eating a sweet-smelling dessert and reading a book as he lounged by my feet.
The image swirled, and the shadowy form briefly sharpened.
Red smoking eyes. Horns sweeping back from a strikingly handsome face that looked familiar—but before I could fully focus, the image was ripped away.
Bastard.
The demon in my head chuckled.
My sword trembled as I clenched it tighter, fighting against the pressure in my wrist and the sickening pleasure that filled the demon’s laugh.
The promise of power was tempting, a whisper that slid into my thoughts like sweet poison.
But Erebus’s life hung in the balance, and the sight of his blood snapped me back.
I was not some puppet, not some tool for a demon’s amusement.
With a snarl, I drew my focus inward, tightening it like a coil ready to snap.
I closed my eyes and plunged into the shadows that encased my mind, confronting the pulsing darkness that had wormed its way in. Our shadows were speckled with faint light—like starlight. The demon’s shadows were pitch-black, like an oily stain.
“Get. Out,” I growled, shaking in fury.
The demon’s laughter sifted through me, mockingly soft. “You don’t have the strength.”
I ignored the voice, pushing deeper. Calling every fragment of strength I had left, every piece of defiance.
I felt it building—a weave of starlight within the darkness, a light I’d buried so deeply I had nearly forgotten it was there.
It seared against the demon’s darkness. I willed it to expand, to burn.
A few shadows writhed and hissed, loosening their grip.
I pushed harder, commanding that inner light to grow, to drive the demon out. Pain flared, sharp and searing, as though my very soul was tearing apart.
The demon’s voice faltered, thick with anger. “No! You are mine. And if you do not heel, he will be next. I will crawl into his mind and make him my slave.”
With one final surge, I forced the demon from my mind, casting it out in a riot of shadows bursting with flecks of light. At once the bindings dissipated, loosening from Erebus’s neck and sliding from my wrist. My sword disappeared, too, rushing back into my palm.
Erebus slumped into my arms, no longer conscious.
A sudden bang on the walls of our domain sent me reeling; it felt like a direct blow to my skull, insistent and desperate.
Every nerve screamed at me to resist, but I couldn’t fight the pull of unconsciousness.
It was like a dark, drowning tide grabbing me hard by my ankles.
With a sob, I collapsed onto Erebus’s blood-soaked chest, unable to stop myself from falling under.
And then I felt the unmistakable tug of him.
Mithras.