Chapter 5
We Need to Talk
I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The crystals on my nightstand are glinting in the lamplight. I placed extras under the bed too, just in case. The salt line at my bedroom door is perfect and unbroken.
I should feel safe. Protected. The witches said this would help.
Instead, I feel ridiculous. Like a child hiding under the covers, convinced a blanket will protect them from monsters.
Except the monster is real. And I’m hoping he’s going to be stopped by some rocks and table salt.
The lamp flickers.
My heart jumps into my throat. I sit up straighter, pulling the duvet closer around me like armour. The temperature is dropping. I can see my breath misting in the air.
Oh no.
The edges of the room start to darken. Not natural darkness. This is something else. Something alive. Black shadows creep along the walls like ink spreading through water. They pool in the corners. Gather along the ceiling. Wisps of smoke curl and twist through the air.
The lamp flickers again. The light dims to almost nothing.
Then I hear it.
Laughter.
Low and rich and deeply amused. It echoes around the room, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. The sound makes my skin prickle. Makes my stomach clench with a confusing mix of fear and something else I’m absolutely not ready to examine.
“No, no, no,” I whisper, scrambling backwards on the bed until my back hits the headboard.
The laughter grows louder. More solid. The shadows thicken and swirl, gathering at the foot of my bed. They twist and coalesce, forming a vaguely humanoid shape.
Hex materialises slowly. Like he’s pulling himself together from scraps of darkness. But something is different. He’s not as solid as before. Not as defined. His edges blur and shift constantly. I can see through parts of him to the wall behind. He flickers like a faulty hologram.
The wards are working. Sort of.
His red eyes blaze through the shadows, fixed on me with unmistakable amusement.
“Well, well,” he says. His voice is slightly distorted. Layered. Like he’s speaking from underwater. “This is a surprise.”
I clutch the duvet tighter. My knuckles are white. “Stay back!”
“You cannot command a prince of the Shadow Realm,” he says haughtily.
Oh god. I’ve pissed him off. I called him a duckling and I’ve strewn crystals around, and all it has done is insult him.
Hex takes a step forward. Then another. He prowls around the side of the bed with that predatory grace.
But when he reaches the salt line and the crystals, he stops.
His form flickers violently. He reaches out one shadowy hand, and it hits an invisible barrier.
Ripples spread through the air like he’s touching the surface of a pond.
He pulls his hand back and tilts his head, studying the protection with genuine interest.
“Clever,” he murmurs. Then his gaze snaps back to me, and that amused smirk is back. “Did you do this all by yourself, or did you get help?”
“I had help,” I admit. There’s no point lying. He clearly knows.
“From humans dabbling in magic?” He sounds delighted by this. Like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all week. “Oh, Adam. That’s adorable.”
Tentative relief tickles over me. He doesn’t seem enraged, he seems… amused. Deeply entertained, as if I’m nothing more than a clumsy puppy that’s just done something absurd.
“It’s working!” I point out, trying to inject some confidence into my voice. Trying to sound braver than I feel. “You can’t get to me.”
Hex’s rich laughter rolls through the room again. He moves to the other side of the bed, testing the barrier from a different angle. Still blocked. He completes a full circle around my room, prowling like a caged animal. Except I’m the one who’s caged. Trapped on my own bed by my own protections.
This was a terrible plan.
“You’re right,” Hex says, stopping at the foot of my bed. He leans against the invisible barrier, shadows writhing around him. “I can’t touch you. Not while you’re cowering behind your little magic tricks.”
The way he says it makes heat flood my face. Cowering. Like I’m pathetic. Like I’m weak.
“I’m not cowering!” I snap. “I’m being sensible!”
“Is that what you call it?” His eyes gleam with mischief. “So scared of getting close to someone that when a handsome man offers you a good time, you put up wards.”
My mouth falls open. The absolute audacity. The nerve!
“That’s not what this is about!” My voice comes out higher than I’d like. Defensive and flustered.
“Isn’t it?” Hex’s form solidifies slightly, just enough that I can make out the sharp planes of his face. The curve of his smirk. “When was the last time you let anyone into your bed, Adam?”
“That’s none of your business!”
“Two years, wasn’t it?” He sounds like he already knows the answer. Like he’s been rummaging around in my head. “Two years since you let anyone touch you. Since you let yourself feel anything.”
“Stop it.” My hands are shaking. I press them flat against the mattress, trying to ground myself.
“You’re so desperate to keep everyone at arm’s length,” Hex continues, his voice dropping lower.
Softer. More dangerous. “You live in someone else’s flat.
Work a job you hate. Have no real friends except the goth boy who thinks you’re a fun occult mystery.
You’re not living, Adam. You’re just existing. ”
Each word lands like a physical blow. My chest feels tight. My throat is burning. He’s right. He’s absolutely right, and I hate that he can see it so clearly.
“And now,” Hex says, spreading his arms wide in a theatrical gesture, “someone finally wants you. Really wants you. And what do you do? You run and hide behind crystals and salt like a frightened child.”
“You’re a shadow creature who wants to feed on me!” I yell, finally finding my voice. Finding my anger. “Forgive me for being cautious!”
“Cautious.” Hex tastes the word like it’s bitter. “Is that what you call two years of self-imposed isolation? Caution?”
I glare at him. My jaw is clenched so tight it aches.
I want to argue. Want to defend myself. But the words stick in my throat, because what can I say?
He’s not wrong. I have been isolating myself.
Keeping everyone at a distance. Telling myself it’s because I’m protecting myself from getting hurt again.
But maybe I’m just scared.
Hex watches me wrestle with this realisation. His expression softens slightly. Not much, but enough that I notice.
“You have claws, little human,” he says quietly. “I saw them when you called me a duckling. That was brave. Foolish, but brave.”
Despite everything, despite my anger and embarrassment and the crystals between us, I feel a small flicker of pride at those words.
“I want to see you use those claws on everyone who tries to walk over you,” Hex continues. “Not just me.”
I blink at him. The anger drains away, replaced by confusion. “What?”
“You let people push you around,” he says bluntly. “Your boss. Your family. Strangers in the coffee shop who are rude to you. You just take it. Smile and nod and swallow your anger.”
“I’m being professional!”
“You’re being a doormat.” He says it without heat. Just matter-of-fact. “And I’m going to fix that.”
“You can’t just fix me!” I splutter, indignation rising again. “I don’t need fixing! I’m fine!”
Hex raises one eyebrow. The gesture is elegant even through the flickering shadows. “Are you?”
No. I’m really not. But I’m not about to admit that to him.
We stare at each other across the barrier. The silence stretches. My heart is still racing. My hands are still shaking slightly. But the fear is fading, replaced by something more complicated.
He thinks I have the potential to be brave. He wants me to stand up for myself. He’s not trying to make me weaker. He’s trying to make me stronger.
That’s very boyfriend goals of him. Damn it.
“Why do you even care?” I ask quietly. “About whether I stand up for myself or not?”
Hex’s expression shifts. Something flashes in his red eyes. Something I can’t quite read.
“Because you’re mine,” he says simply. “And what’s mine should know their worth.”
Oh my fucking god. Who says shit like that? Did that really just happen?
Mine. He said it so casually. So certainly. Like it’s an established fact. I should be offended. Should be angry that he’s claiming ownership of me like I’m a possession. But instead, my stomach does that swooping thing again. That rollercoaster drop sensation. I feel my face heating up.
But it’s hardly my fault. No one, I mean absolutely no one, could remain composed while a sexy shadow monster says sexy shit like that.
He said I should know my worth.
Oh no. Oh no, this is bad.
I clear my throat and try to redirect. Change the subject before I do something stupid like swoon.
“What would feeding you even entail?” The question bursts out before I can stop it. My stupid brain floundering to change the subject and grabbing the first thing it can think of.
The effect is immediate and spectacular.
Hex’s entire demeanour shifts. The amusement in his eyes turns predatory. Hungry. His form solidifies further, shadows pulling tight around him until he looks almost completely real. Almost completely there. The barrier between us seems to thin.
“Oh, Adam,” he purrs, his voice dropping even lower. All gravel and honey. “Are you sure you want to know?”
No. Absolutely not. I should stop this right now. Should tell him to leave and never speak of it again.
“Yes,” I hear myself say.
Hex’s grin is wicked. He moves closer to the barrier, as close as he can get. His eyes never leave mine.
“It’s quite simple,” he says conversationally. As if we’re discussing the weather. “I need to feed on desire. On pleasure. On the energy generated when you feel good.”
I swallow hard. My mouth has gone completely dry. “And how exactly would you do that?”
“I would touch you.” He says it so casually. So matter-of-factly. “Kiss you. Make you feel things you’ve been denying yourself for far too long.”