Chapter 9 The Monster That Eats Your Heart
The Monster That Eats Your Heart
The way Shadow hangs there in the dim bedroom, it’s like I’ve been caught cheating.
Trying to steady my breath, I shut the door firmly and remind myself the monster has no such feelings for me. He’s the one who keeps abandoning me without warning or assurance he’ll be back.
Setting down my keys and shrugging off my jacket in the living room, I say, "I didn’t know if you’d come back."
He doesn’t respond at first. The silence builds like a palpable tension, pressing against my skin.
I walk to the doorway and stop just shy of the threshold.
I simply stare, waiting him out. Sweat breaks out over my entire body beneath the layers of clothing, the heat kicking out from the old fan on full blast.
A million questions cram into my mouth, begging to be asked, but I’m tired of being left in suspense. On the insane notion he might actually be jealous, I leave the silence hanging—for him to wriggle and grab onto.
"You like him," Shadow finally says in that low, gravelly tone. I’m not sure if it’s a statement or a question. My heart skips, like his voice hit a tripwire I didn’t know was waiting.
And suddenly, I regret leaving that line out for him to grab onto. I don’t want to have to define my feelings—not for him, not for myself.
Miguel is nice.
He sticks around.
I could be happy with him.
That last one falls like lead in my stomach.
Standing next to Shadow, it can only be a heavy lie. When he’s the one I gave my heart to before I even knew I had one to give.
"Where have you been?" I ask instead.
Inky tendrils whip about as if he remembers something unpleasant. "Getting rid of the body." His tone is flat and emotionless.
The memory of the blood-red creature that attacked me—those giant crab legs and menacing horns—flashes through my mind. I can’t help but wonder how Shadow disposed of it.
Did he bury it in the ground? Toss it into a river? But then again, what if there’s no water where he’s from?
The thought evaporates. I know better than to ask questions. Asking only makes Shadow shut down.
Surprisingly, after the attack, the cat slunk back to my door, its fur matted with snow and dirt, but its eyes shining with a fierce protectiveness. I spent nearly an hour crouched beside it, whispering words of gratitude and giving it gentle head scratches.
I’d been toeing the line, but now I cross the threshold into my bedroom, forcing Shadow back so I can enter. I peel off my knit sweater and let it fall onto the bed. Sweat glistens across my skin as I sit down in just a thin tank top. Shadow turns to watch me.
Could it be desire gleaming in his dark eyes?
No. It’s all in my head.
"So what was that thing?" I ask, crossing my arms and trying to ignore how my nipples tighten under his gaze.
"A redeye mawterror."
"Funny name to have when you don’t have eyes."
His silence tells me it’s not funny at all.
Admittedly, that thing had truly been a creature of nightmares. Every instinct I had told me I was dead—until Shadow showed up. Just in the nick of time. Again.
"How did it get here?" I ask slowly.
With that, Shadow whips back and forth across the room in agitation. "Because I foolishly led him to you. By returning here, I drew attention to myself… and to you. It was a stupid thing to do."
My spine stiffens, breath quickening.
Hope flares in my chest—dangerous, bright. The kind that always burns too hot too fast.
This is the closest he’s ever come to telling me about where he comes from.
"Is that why you stayed away for so long?" I ask.
Shadow halts but doesn’t look at me. "No," he finally says. Then in a lower voice, "But it’s why I shouldn’t have returned."
I launch off the bed and cross the room at him. Smoky tendrils dissipate under my grasp until I manage to lock my hands around his neck.
White misty eyes widen in surprise.
"Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that again," I yell.
I don’t care if I sound unhinged. I’d rather scream than feel that cold silence again.
Tears stab at my eyes like red-hot pokers, but I refuse to let them fall.
The change in Shadow is swift and brutal. His eyes ignite into a searing red inferno.
My body slams onto the bed, pinned by dark tentacles as he calmly approaches. I struggle against their hold, desperate to get close to him. I need to hang onto him. I need to make him understand.
I don’t care if it makes me weak or pathetic. I’m desperate not to be left by him again.
As Shadow grows larger before my eyes, gaze burning with hellfire, he speaks in a near demonic growl. "This desire you have, it is misguided. You must know that."
Despite the fire in his eyes, his words hit like a bucket of ice water—with an extra shot of shame.
"If you haven’t noticed, I am a monster." He leans in, his voice rolling over my skin like bits of sharp gravel. "I delight in the taste of blood." His forked tongue flicks out, slithering up my neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. My lower belly twists as I strain against the hold.
The tongue trails across my collarbone, sliding down the exposed skin of my chest, nearing my breasts. "I consume hearts. And the fact you are trying to give me yours is beyond foolish."
He’s trying to scare me. To warn me off.
But his tongue lashes against my skin with a ferocity that sets fire to every nerve ending. The sensations ignite a wildfire through my body, and I writhe and whimper under his touch, helpless to stop it. Once again, I’m a mindless, hungry demon for him.
Something flickers in his eyes—realization. He’s had the opposite effect.
And then his red gaze darkens with what I fantasize to be lust.
In the blink of an eye, he’s across the room. His tendrils vanish like he’s afraid of what they might do next.
"You should stick with the nice, safe human," he finishes.
His words cut cleaner than claws. Like he's drawing a line I wasn’t ready to see.
In my deluded mind, I believe I detect a hint of dejection in his tone.
The fantasies I’ve concocted for myself.
"You and I both know humans aren’t safe," I say through gritted teeth, that old pain rearing up like a hungry fire ready to consume me until I’m nothing but ash.
That silences him.
I get up off the bed to stand before him again. His shadows crowd around him like armor.
My hand reaches up and touches his cheek.
Even if my fingers pass through smoke, I need the contact. I need to feel like he’s real.
It doesn’t matter that his face is always blurred, an out-of-focus darkness. I know him better than I know myself, sometimes.
He doesn’t move away from my touch.
"If you left me forever, it would be worse than death."
There’s no exaggeration in me. Just the raw, splitting truth.
"You wish to know where I’ve been." His voice lowers to a husky rasp. "I was imprisoned."