Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
The funeral was held on a dreary, overcast afternoon, as though the world itself had dimmed to mourn. The chapel was suffused with a dull gray light, the stained-glass windows filtering muted hues of blue and red onto the polished wooden pews. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of lilies and the murmured whispers of those who had gathered to pay their respects—or, in some cases, to gawk at the spectacle of my tragic and untimely death.
Emma sat in the front row, her face pale and blotchy, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her hands trembled as she clutched a crumpled tissue, her sobs audible even over the low hum of the organ music. But no amount of weeping could erase the subtle, disdainful glances from the crowd—the whispered accusations that floated like specters in the air.
“She’s the reason he’s gone. I heard she was there when he died. She must have pushed him.”
“After those texts? How could he not confront her?”
“What a snake. Poor Lucian.”
The whispers coiled around Emma, and though she buried her face in her hands, the weight of their judgment was palpable. She was alone in her grief, isolated even among those who claimed to have loved me.
The glossy black casket rested at the front of the chapel, draped in a rich crimson cloth that bore the Ashford family crest. It was flanked by towering arrangements of white lilies and roses, their pristine beauty a stark contrast to the ugly truths now woven into my death. People filed past the casket one by one, their gazes lingering on the closed lid, as though they could divine some final wisdom from the life it now contained.
From where I sat, nestled beside Lilith in the pews near the back, it was surreal to watch them all. The polished wood pressed uncomfortably against my bare skin, a jarring reminder of the undignified state I was stuck in. It seemed that dying the way I had—naked and exposed—meant this was my permanent condition. Though I lacked skin to feel the chill of the air, it didn’t matter. The principle of being surrounded by everyone I’d ever known, exposed , sent a shiver of humiliation through me. They couldn’t see me, but I was still here… watching, aware, laid bare in ways no one could fathom. The realization twisted in my gut like a cruel joke, adding another layer of humiliation to an already surreal nightmare.
My parents were there, stiff and composed, their grief buried beneath a veneer of aristocratic dignity. Old friends I hadn’t spoken to in years stood in clusters, whispering and glancing at Emma with barely concealed contempt. And then there was Ciaran, seated in the back row, his shoulders hunched and his gaze fixed on the floor. He looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else, his presence heavy with something I couldn’t quite name.
“They’re all so predictable, aren’t they?” Lilith’s voice slid into my ear like velvet-coated poison, but it was her gaze drifting downward that made my stomach twist. “And you, my darling—so vulnerable. It’s almost poetic.” Her laughter followed, soft but sharp, slicing through my composure like a blade. “Grieving the perfect little prince they never really knew. And your precious Emma? Oh, her tears are almost convincing.”
Her presence was a chilling weight beside me in the pew, her form flickering faintly in the dim light of the chapel. She sat unnervingly close, her leg brushing against mine in a way that made my entire body tense.
“Stop it,” I muttered, my voice low and strained. “Not here.”
Lilith’s laugh was soft, a dark hum of amusement. Her eyes roved over me, and the smug curve of her lips made my skin crawl. “Not here? Oh, Lucian, darling, this is exactly the place. Besides…” Her fingers ghosted over my thigh, her touch sending a jolt through me. “I rather like you like this. Raw. Unfiltered… Don’t you see? They’re mourning you, loving you, idolizing you… and yet here you are, mine in every way that matters.”
I tried to pull away, to shift from her reach, but it was useless. Her fingers brushed against my arm, light as a whisper but impossible to ignore. The bond between us pulsed faintly, the connection both a tether and a chain. Her touch was cold, invasive, and it made my skin crawl—but I couldn’t escape it.
The service droned on, the priest’s words a hollow echo in the back of my mind. Lilith’s hand rested on my thigh now, her fingers curling slightly as though to stake her claim. Each touch sent a shiver through me, a reminder that no one else in this room could see the possession playing out in plain sight.
“Look at them,” she murmured, her lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Crying for you. Wishing they could have done more. But they’ll never know you like I do. They’ll never have you like I do.”
Her hand moved again, trailing lightly over my chest and down my arm, her nails grazing my skin in a way that felt both invasive and mocking. “It’s a shame no one else can see you like this,” she whispered, her lips curving into a wicked grin. “Such a beautiful display, and none of it wasted on the living.” I glanced toward Ciaran, desperate for some kind of anchor, but his gaze was fixed on Lilith. There was a tightness in his jaw, a flicker of something sharp and bitter in his eyes. He saw her touch me. He saw everything.
And he did nothing.
Lilith’s fingers trailed down my back, her touch growing bolder as the minutes dragged on. My body tensed, my mind screaming at me to stop her, to push her away, to do something. But she was relentless, her presence pressing against me like a shadow I couldn’t shake.
“Relax, darling,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper. “You’re mine now. Let me remind you what that means.”
I tried to focus on the priest's words, on the somber tone of the ceremony, on the grief etched into every line of my parents' faces. But Lilith was relentless, her hand insistent on my thigh, her touch both arousing and terrifying. I was dead, for god's sake. This shouldn't have been possible, and yet here I was, my cock hardening under her watchful gaze.
Lilith chuckled, a sound that seemed to echo through the cathedral, though only I could hear it. "Poor Lucian," she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Even in death, you can't escape your baser instincts."
Her hand moved, her fingers wrapping around my cock. I tried to tell myself it was just a phantom sensation, that she couldn't actually touch me, not like this. But as her fingers stroked my length, I felt an embarrassing twitch of pleasure. My cock stiffened, betraying my unease. I tried to focus on the casket at the front of the room, on the reality of my death, but Lilith's laughter was a siren song that drowned out all other thoughts.
"Such a beautiful reaction," she murmured, her breath hot against my ear. "It's almost a shame they can't see you like this."
And then she was on her knees in front of me, her mouth closing around my cock. I bit back a groan, my gaze darting around the room to make sure no one else could see this twisted spectacle. Her nails dug into my thighs, the sensation just sharp enough to keep me grounded, to remind me that this was real—or as real as anything could be in this ghostly half-existence.
When I allowed myself a brief glance down, I saw my cock through her translucent form. The sight was equal parts arousing and grotesque, and it was that dichotomy that finally snapped me back to the present moment. My eyes darted to the front of the chapel, where Kael was now standing, his hands gripping the edges of the podium as he looked out over the assembled mourners.
Kael's voice was steady as he began to speak, though there was something brittle about his tone that hinted at the effort it was costing him to keep his emotions in check. "Lucian was more than just a friend," he said, his gaze drifting over the crowd before landing on my parents. "He was like a brother to me. We shared everything, from the most mundane moments to the most profound experiences."
He launched into a story then, about a trip we'd taken our senior year of high school. We'd gone to the beach, just the five of us—Kael, Ciaran, Aeron, Thorne, and me. It had been Kael's idea, a last hurrah before we went away for college. We'd spent the days surfing and the nights around a bonfire, talking about everything and nothing at all. The trip had been Kael's way of solidifying our bond, of reminding us that no matter where life took us, we'd always have each other's backs.
As Kael spoke, his words weaving a tapestry of our shared history, I felt a pang of something that might have been nostalgia if I'd still been capable of such things. But that was before, when I was still alive and the future was a horizon filled with endless possibilities.
The weight of the air pressing in around me was nothing compared to the feeling of Lilith climbing into my lap, the hem of her tight black dress riding up as she straddled me. I should've been horrified, appalled by the desecration of my own funeral, but there was a disconnect between what I knew was right and the base desires that Lilith stoked to life with her every touch and whispered word.
"Look at Ciaran," she purred, her breath hot against my ear as she whispered the twisted game she was playing. "He's watching us, you know. Watching as I fuck you right here, in front of everyone. What would the others think if they knew their perfect Lucian was getting his cock sucked at his own funeral?"
I couldn't help the way my hands moved to her hips, the feel of her ass beneath my palms as she positioned herself over me. I was powerless to stop her, powerless to do anything but hold on as she sank down onto my cock, her wetness enveloping me in a grip that was both a torment and a pleasure.
Her pace quickened, the sound of her pussy slamming down onto my cock drowned out by the monotone voice of the priest as he droned on about my life—a life I no longer had any claim to. Each thrust drove me higher, the friction of our bodies sparking a fire that threatened to consume me.
And then I heard him—Ciaran, his voice cutting through the haze of pleasure that Lilith had wrapped around me. "You think you're the only one who can play dirty?" he rasped, his words barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
I felt Lilith's body shift as she braced herself, her hands gripping the edge of the pew on either side of my shoulders. Her hips worked furiously against mine, the wet slap of our bodies echoing in my mind as Ciaran's ghostly form loomed over us, his lips claiming Lilith's in a kiss that was both a challenge and a claim.
Trapped between them, I could do nothing but surrender to the sensation of Lilith's body grinding against mine, her pussy tightening around my cock as she rode me with wild abandon. The feeling of Ciaran's presence so close behind me, the knowledge that we were defiling the sanctity of my own funeral—it was all too much.
With a gasp that was swallowed by the sobs of the mourners, I came hard, my cock pulsing as I spilled my release into Lilith's waiting depths. The sensation of her orgasm moments later, the way her body shuddered around mine as she ground down on my still-hard cock, was almost enough to make me forget the reality of our situation—that we were all dead, trapped in a cycle of cruelty and desire that showed no signs of ending.