Chapter 22 #3
I sit back down on the chair and watch her, waiting for her to turn around and say something, but her breathing grows heavy, her postorgasmic languor taking her into a deep sleep.
Once I know she’s asleep, I close my eyes and mutter a “fuck” under my breath, leaving her bedroom and closing the door slowly. If she wakes, I have no idea what the atmosphere will be like. Her taste is on my mouth, and my ears are ringing with her moans, and I’m hard all over again.
Cracking my neck from side to side, I head to my bedroom to grab a shower and wait for Tony to return with an update on what’s going on.
But just a few steps from my door, I’m shoved back by a dark presence and thrown against the wall—the drop to the ground is pitiful and not demon-like, but I glance up just in time to see the dark, clouded entity powering through the corridor.
A Tor’Oth.
A scream pierces the night.
Sable.
The materialization hurtles me so fast through the manor that my head spins, and I’m unsteady on my feet when I appear in her bedroom.
The mass is on top of her on the floor, blood coating her face, and I don’t hesitate to shove it off her. Then I wrap my arms around the soul sucker and transport us as far as my powers can take me from Sable.
The Tor’Oth’s fangs sharpen and sink into my shoulder, and I feel faint as soon as it tries to drink the soul from my body. In a few minutes, Sable will be free of me. I’ll go back to Hell.
No.
Sable will be stuck here herself, and I’m not done with her yet.
I shove the beast off and smash my fist through its chest, wrapping my fingers around its black, decaying heart as it thrashes, growing still when I yank the organ from its body and crush it in my hand.
If this was a full-grown, mature Tor’Oth, I’d be done for—but it wasn’t here for me. It went straight for Sable.
I stare at the thing as it goes up in flames in the dirt, and I toss the blood-covered heart onto the burning corpse, gasping for air as I fall back a few steps.
My shoulder burns from its bite—I need to pull the venom out or I’m going to be in big trouble. It’s dead, which will only cause more of them to come and investigate. But if I hadn’t killed it, it might’ve killed me then taken Sable.
I wasn’t going to let that happen.
I freeze all over when I realize something.
My safety was never my concern. But hers was.
Tony whistles dramatically. “Hope you’re ready for more of those fuckers.
They’ve been searching for the disturbance that caused two demons to escape.
Me and you, by the way, if that wasn’t clear.
And then when residue was picked up a few days ago, it was able to be traced. They want the door closed.”
I frown. “The door?”
“The one I can walk in and out of without the big dog knowing because Sable broke the seal on the gates when you were summoned. The big dog wants them closed and fully sealed. Anyone can pass into Hell, but no one’s ever meant to leave without permission.”
“Why did it attack Sable?” I ask, kicking its remains so it turns to ash at my feet.
My head snaps up.
And since the residue is already everywhere and the gates of Hell are wide open, I don’t think twice about materializing into Sable’s bedroom. She’s gasping as she presses a towel to her midsection.
It hurt her. Clawed at her stomach.
Rage bubbles in me, and I try not to let my anger take over as she winces.
My teeth grind to dust, and I wish I hadn’t killed it so fast.
“It’s burning.” She gasps, hunching over.
A curse drops from my mouth as she falls forward, and I catch her in my arms, lifting her carefully and carrying her to the bed. After laying her down, I move hair from her sweating, feverish face.
“W-what was that?” she asks, tears puddling in her eyes.
“A Tor’Oth.”
She hisses as I take the towel from her hands and away from the wound.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“Just my back when it threw me to the ground.” Her gaze drops to my shoulder. “It… it hurt you too.”
“I’ll be fine,” I reply, even though the wound burns like a bitch—it wasn’t after me, so it likely didn’t inject much venom. “You’ll heal fast, but you need to endure the burning for a few days. You might get some nightmares or hallucinate.”
“Hallucinate?”
I nod. “The bite is used to drive humans mad down in Hell—it’s a venom. But it doesn’t last long. You just need to get past the intense part, and you’ll be fine.”
I don’t want to tell her the truth—this is dangerous for a demon or a hellhound. I don’t have the first clue what this kind of injury will do to a ghost.
Hopefully since she’s already dead, it’ll work its way through her and settle in a few days.
The last time I was bitten, I thought I was dying all over again.
Five years my wound lasted, thanks to Hell and its fun approach to time.
Sable is going to lose her mind over the next two days, no doubt about that.
She’ll be on fire with a fever, sweat so much she’ll likely lose weight, and may hallucinate a few different monsters.
I soak a fresh cloth and hold it to her wound; she hisses and winces and tries to crunch up her body. Holding her in place, I try not to move as she starts to scream from the venom burning through her.
“God, it hurts, Lynx,” she cries. “P-please make it stop. Please!”
I could snap her neck again—she’s risen every single time she’s died. But knowing our shitty luck, with the Tor’Oth’s venom working its way through her system, she won’t wake up. And that’s not a chance I’m willing to take.
Her hand snaps up to grab my free one—I don’t pull away when she grips it for dear life. I squeeze back, closing my eyes as her sobs ring against my eardrums.
Sable screams so much, her voice cracks, her cheeks are soaked from tears, and she passes out.
I don’t move. I don’t let go of her hand. She’s still shaking, unconscious, and I wipe more strands from her face and wish I could take all the pain away from her—and where the fuck is Tony? He knows more about this nurse shit than I do.
I’m not a caring person. I haven’t been since I was human, but the thought of leaving her while she’s like this kills me inside. So I stay put—I slide the towel from her wound to check it over, cleaning the dead skin and pus and watch the flesh slowly start to knit back together.
The wound will close eventually, but the venom will still be there.
The clock ticks in the distance as my thumb rubs over the top of her hand. It twitches every so often, her brows keep furrowing, and she lets out soft little whimpers.
Eventually, when her eyes peel open, she doesn’t yank her hand free. “Why are you still here?” she asks so quietly, I nearly miss it.
“I’m staying here with you. You shouldn’t be alone.”
Sable’s plump bottom lip gets trapped between her teeth. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I’m staying,” I push. “Stop being a hard-ass for two seconds.”
“You’re an asshole,” she says, but it’s not with any anger as she shakily lifts the duvet beside her—a silent invitation.
I pull off my shirt, toss it onto the ground, and climb in beside her.
Instantly, I feel this is a bad decision. I should go sleep on her floor. Or run to my own bedroom and lock the damn door.
But my cockiness runs away, and for some fucking reason, nerves take over at her proximity. Hours ago, I was between her legs on this bed, and I was in my element, devouring her like I was a starved man.
Now, my pulse is hammering in a different way, and I don’t know what it means.
My eyes stay open, staring at the ceiling, my fucking soul so aware of her beside me. The bed isn’t exactly huge, and if I nudge to the right a little, I’ll feel her.
“Am I healing?” she asks.
“Yes, but the venom isn’t gone. Sleep. That’s the best thing for you right now.”
She rubs her hand down her face then drops it beside her, and I bristle at the feel of her fingers touching mine.
I don’t move my hand.
And she doesn’t move hers.
My lungs burn—there’s no air in the room, and I don’t blink. I don’t think she’s breathing either. I’ve fucked her. I’ve had my tongue between her legs, her lips around my cock. I’ve heard her moaning and coming and felt her grasping my hair to ride my face.
Yet this, a simple touch, is killing me.
It’s more than sex.
It’s more than anything.
Absently, my pinkie twitches, and my heart ricochets against my ribs so harshly, I fear she may hear it nearly bounding out of my chest.
She’ll know I’m nervous and think I’m pathetic.
I gulp, and just when I’ve almost convinced myself to pull away, her fingers lace with mine, and I don’t hesitate to tighten the hold.
Neither of us say a word into the silent bliss.
Sable falls asleep, and I lie in that spot for the next eight hours, marking this key moment in my pitiful existence because I’m holding hands with a girl. Comforting her as her illness kicks in.
Throughout the night, she wakes and sleeps, with groans of pain, often terrified of something that isn’t there. I hold her hand through it all. An anchor to this world and not the riot going on in her head.
Her head is resting on my chest now as I whisper to her that I’m here, that she’s going to be okay. Her leg is between mine. Her breaths hit my neck, and I can smell the strawberry scent of her hair.
The second she falls into a deep sleep I know she won’t repeatedly rise from, I don’t push her away. Instead, I keep her against me and tighten my arms around her.
And I like it.