Chapter 14 Kill For Me
Kill For Me
Miguel and I sit on the couch in his apartment, watching a movie.
It’s just as small as mine, but cleaner.
He doesn’t have much furniture, but what he has is in good condition.
It smells like lemon cleaner and fresh laundry here.
Plus, no cockroaches running around.The movie is an amusing comedy, but my nerves start knotting when I worry I’m not laughing as much as Miguel.
He laughs like nothing bad has ever touched him. I want that. I want to borrow that lightness, just for a second.
It feels like someone has hit the mute button on my humor, and I can’t fully access it.
Do I even have a sense of humor anymore? Can I ever laugh like Miguel—like I don’t have a world of weight pressing down on me?
I think of Snarp dancing for me on the edge of my bed, flapping his wings in a silly way.
Even with the darkness coiled around Snarp like a warning, I wasn’t scared or put off. I remember the feeling of the near crushing weight lifting from my chest as I bobbed my head back and forth in time with the flaps of Snarp’s wings. I had to cover up my giggles.
Shadow made me laugh.
Miguel nearly rolls off the couch, and a genuine smile pulls at my lips. I love how sincere he is. No secrets—his humor, his interest is all out there on his sleeve, so I’m never left guessing.
When he later puts his arm around my shoulders, he asks if it’s okay. I nod, sinking my teeth into my lower lip. Then he leans over, giving me plenty of time to stop him, before kissing me softly.
We’ve kissed several times now, and it’s pleasant. I don’t feel like my heart is going to explode out of my head from fear. Fear of what will happen, fear of what he wants. After a month with Miguel, I know to my bones that he’s safe.
He tangles his hand in my hair, lowering me back onto the couch. I return the kiss, following his rhythm as it becomes more urgent. I feel the hardness through his pants.
Miguel has been beyond patient when I’ve given him so little in return. He slides down to lay his hot mouth against my neck, and my eyes flutter closed.
Can Shadow sense my body responding? Will he come like he did the last time I got intimate with someone else?
Will Shadow rip Miguel off me and threaten his life?
I shiver at the thought and Miguel moans.
A hand reaches under my shirt, cupping my breast through my bra. Notching his hard-on between my legs, Miguel begins to grind into me.
The need I feel grows with the friction, the pressure, the skin-on-skin contact.
But it’s not a need for Miguel. I need Shadow. I need him to come for me.
I want him to stop this.
I want him to save me.
Miguel is everything I was told to want. Respectful. Kind. Gentle. So why do I want him ripped away from me?
I want tentacles wrapped around my arms, my legs, my throat.
I liked the way Shadow squeezed my jugular to the point of pain. It made me wet, out of control, and completely submissive to whatever messed up sexual things my monster would want to try out on me.
The idea of Shadow pinning me, splitting me in two, dragging me to my knees before him has me on the verge of coming.
Turning my head to the side, I squeeze my eyes shut as I buck harder against Miguel. My jeans are wet and hot from the grinding and my dark runaway thoughts.
I need Shadow. I need him to come for me, to stop this.
Miguel unbuttons my jeans and slides a hand down, gently teasing my wet lower lips. I mewl.
It’s not his touch that makes me gasp—it’s the emptiness behind it.
"Meu Deus," he murmurs. "You are so perfect, Evie."
Panic tightens around my throat, dispelling my fantasy of Shadow’s velvet touch.
My body is alive, on fire with desire for all the wrong reasons. I crave violence, I crave to be possessed.
Is Shadow really not going to come?
If he doesn’t, this is going to continue.
Miguel is going to make love to me.
He wouldn’t fuck. He’d treat me so sweet.
He’ll say every right thing, make sure I’m comfortable the whole way through before cuddling me all night and making me breakfast.
My insides twist with an ugliness I can’t push away.
Because all I want is for him to be launched across the room while Shadow bends me over and defiles me like the monster he is, right in front of Miguel’s eyes. Until I’m screaming, begging, and liquid sin.
I’m up like a shot. Ten feet away from Miguel, I’m buttoning up my pants, unable to catch my heavy breaths as I border on hyperventilating.
Miguel is left sitting on the couch, his eyes glazed with arousal even as his lips part in confusion. His hair is a tousled mess and a flush stains his cheeks. There’s a damp spot on his jeans.
"I-I need to get home," I manage to get out.
Miguel runs a hand through his hair, still looking dazed as if he just walked off a rollercoaster. "Okay. Let me get my keys."
In the car, we’re quiet on the fifteen-minute drive to my place. I keep my eyes trained out the passenger window. By the time he pulls the car to a stop in front of my building, a heavy weight nearly crushes my chest.
How could I be so terrible?
What kind of person fantasizes about ruining someone good?
Have I become as fucked up as the people who’ve taken me in over the years?
Did they twist me into a version of their dysfunction and perversion?
Miguel rakes a hand through his hair. "I’m so sorry if I pushed you too far." His tone is tortured as he openly beats himself up.
I swallow hard. "No, it felt good, it’s just... "
I’m not good for you.
You deserve better than me.
All I want is for a monster to fuck me, to claim me, even if that means hurting you.
My eyes turn up to the ceiling of the car as I blink back the sting of hot, shameful, confused tears.
"Oh God, I’m so sorry." Miguel starts to reach for me then fists his hands, stopping himself.
"It’s not you." I shake my head, wiping away the couple tears that slipped out. "It’s me. I’m not... I don’t know how to do this."
I don’t know how to be open. I don’t know how to be normal. I don’t know how to connect.
"Shh, it’s okay. I promise it’s okay," he soothes.
Turning to look at him, I’m ready to confess.
"I don’t think I can do this."
His face turns to stone. "Evie." He speaks slowly. "I pushed things too far too fast, and I’m sorry. We can go slow again. Don’t give this up."
"You deserve someone better, someone normal. You’ve already been so sweet to me, and we’ve gone so slow. By now, any other girl would have—"
"I don’t want any other girl," he cuts me off. Then, taking my hand, he forces me to meet his eye. "Please, don’t make any decisions right now. Go rest. I’ll study for my next exam, then we’ll talk on Thursday after my test. We’ll get ice cream and talk or not talk about whatever you want. Okay?"
I sniffle, my heart breaking. I can’t deny him that. It’s the least I can do. So I mutely nod. Hope sparks then glimmers in his eye, accompanied by a grateful, lopsided smile.
This time he doesn’t walk me to my door, sensing I need space. He’s so good at that. Treating me with courtesy and anticipating my needs.
But it only reinforces that I need something much different than what he can give me.
Walking into my sauna of an apartment, it’s day eight of the thermostat being on the fritz again. Without turning on the light, I hang up my hat and coat.
My heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape me.
I try to ignore the familiar smoky scent curling around me, and the darkness hovering in the corner of the living room.
I stop in the middle of the room, refusing to break the silence first. I face Shadow down.
I know Shadow feels what I felt.
He didn’t come.
Because I was complicit?
Or because he’s letting me go?
That thought makes the center of my chest ache so badly I want to double over, but I don’t. I face my monsters. I always have.
And he’s here now.
Eventually, Shadow floats over until he is in front of me.
"You’re not safe," he says finally.
"Then why didn’t you come for me?" I ask before I can stop myself.
The pause swells with tension and my own resentment. I resent he didn’t come for me. I resent that I wanted him to at all.
"Evie... " He fills my name with equal parts caution and regret. Regret that he didn’t come tonight or that he returned in the first place?
My hands slide up until they find the hard, warm, scaly flesh of his shoulders. Tendrils of smoke swirl out from him, but he doesn’t move even as I draw closer. My insides quake and my lips tremble as I push up onto my tiptoes until I reach his faceless visage.
I press my face into his, desperate for contact. For proof he’s real. That I’m not alone in this house. In this life.
It feels exactly how it looks. It softly moves under mine as if always shifting, but there is skin to connect with.
I press against a mouth I’ve rarely seen, connecting with a pair of firm lips.
Sparks shoot down into my stomach like falling stars at the feel of the perfect fit.
My hands slide up to the back of his neck even as he remains still under me.
I tremble like I’m about to shatter. It’s not lust—it’s starvation.
Kissing him softly, then more firmly, I ache for him to kiss me back. To wrap his arms, his darkness around me. Desperate, I search for any response from him—any indication that he feels even a fragment of what I’m feeling.
I’m holding onto a dream that isn’t truly mine.
I’m taking advantage of my one true friend, and while Miguel and I haven’t spoken about exclusivity of any kind, I suddenly feel like scum. The dirtiest, sticky green sludge that lines polluted lakes and ponds.
I start to step away, but two arms grasp me, holding me fast.
Then, against all my expectations, Shadow claims my mouth, shattering the walls he had built up between us.