Chapter Six
Theron
She’s not coming back.
I’ve been telling myself she will. That her desire is too strong, her longing too deep. That the pull between us is undeniable. But it’s been a full two days and nights since I let her walk out that door, and every hour that passes makes the doubt dig deeper.
I should have claimed her the moment she stepped into The Undertow.
I should have wrapped every one of my tentacles around her and dragged her into the deep before she had a chance to remember the surface world.
But I wanted her to choose me. I wanted her to realize that the plastic imitations she surrounds herself with are nothing compared to the reality of my touch.
And she needs to choose me for the bond to snap into place fully. I can’t force her.
I felt her after she left. Even through the veil, the surge of her arousal hit me like a rogue wave.
I felt her skin flush, her pulse quicken, and that specific, sharp ache she carries for me.
I felt the moment she settled herself in front of that window and took a piece of silicone into her body, imagining it was me.
My own shadows lashed out at the sensation, my tentacles coiling tight with a need so primal I nearly tore the door from its hinges to get to her. She was calling for me, but then she finished. She pulled back. She chose the silence of her apartment over the heat of my lair.
I lean against the bar, a glass of something strong and amber in my hand that I haven’t even touched.
Around me, The Undertow hums with its usual energy.
Conversations in a dozen languages, laughter, and the clink of glasses.
But it all feels muted and distant to me.
Because all I can think about is her. Lilith.
The curve of her face when she looked up at me.
The way her pulse jumped when I touched her hand.
The scent of her arousal when my tentacles wrapped around her thighs.
I’ve existed for centuries. I’ve been patient, solitary, content in my loneliness because I believed I had no choice. And then she started creating.
The first time I felt that pull, that ache she translated into silicone and fantasy, I thought I was imagining it.
Some human designing adult toys was nothing unusual.
But the feeling persisted and grew stronger.
Every new creation she made sent ripples through the veil, and I felt every single one, so I started paying attention.
I learned her name. Her business. The careful artistry she poured into every design.
And slowly, I realized: she wasn’t just making toys.
She was calling out of the darkness, hoping her mate would answer.
So I answered.
I’ve been waiting three years for her to be ready.
Three years of feeling her longing, her loneliness, her desperate need for something real.
And now that she’s finally found me, I wonder, what if I was wrong?
What if the reality of what I am is too much for her?
What if she goes back to her safe human life and convinces herself it was all a dream, leaving me to wither without her?
No. I shouldn’t doubt. Our souls have been entwined since the first time she put pen to paper to draw a curve that looked like my limb.
She is the anchor I didn’t know I was searching for, and I am the shore she was born to crash against. We are a symmetry of hunger, two halves of a dark, ancient whole.
The universe doesn’t make mistakes like this.
I growl and set the glass down hard enough to crack the wood of the bar. If she doesn’t come tonight, I’ll stop being patient. I’ll stop waiting for an invitation. I’ll cross the veil and remind her that no amount of silicone can ever replace the way I’ll make her scream.
“You’re brooding.”
I glance up to find Riven sliding onto the barstool beside me.
He’s one of the regulars here. Some kind of shadow demon, all smoke and darkness with glowing silver eyes.
We’re not friends exactly, but we’ve shared enough drinks over the years to be familiar.
Like me, he’s waiting for the human who’s calling for him to finally be ready and step into The Undertow.
“I don’t brood,” I growl.
“You’re literally radiating misery right now. It’s killing the vibe.” He signals the bartender for a drink. “Let me guess. The human?”
I don’t answer, which is answer enough.
Riven laughs, low and knowing. “I knew it the second she walked in. You looked at her like you’d found religion.”
“She’s mine,” I say.
“Does she know that?”
“She knows.” I remember the way her eyes widened when I told her, the heat that flooded her scent. “But knowing and accepting are different things.”
“So you let her leave? Bold strategy.”
I turn the glass in my hand, watching the liquid catch the light. “She has to choose this. Choose me. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
“The point,” Riven says, accepting his drink from the bartender, “is that humans are terrified of us. You give them too much space to think, and they’ll talk themselves out of it.”
“She won’t.”
“You sound awfully confident for someone who’s been staring at that door for the past forty-eight hours.”
I want to argue, but he’s not wrong. I’ve barely moved from this spot since she left. Every time the door opens, my chest tightens. And every time it’s not her, the disappointment cuts deeper.
“She felt it too,” I say, more to convince myself than him. “The recognition. She’s mine the way I’m hers. She’ll come back.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
The thought makes something primal and violent stir in my chest. If she doesn’t come back, I’ll have to find another way. I’ll open the veil wider, make it impossible for her to ignore.
“She will,” I repeat firmly.
“For your sake, I hope you’re right. Because if you get any more pathetic, Joly’s going to start taking bets on whether you’ll last the week.”
I glance over to where Joly—the blue-skinned water nymph—is tending tables. She catches my eye and gives me a sympathetic smile.
Great. Even the staff pities me.
“She’s worth the wait,” I say.
Riven takes a drink, then asks, “What is it about her? Besides the obvious that you’re mates.”
I consider the question. What is it about Lilith that’s different from every other human I’ve encountered in centuries of existence?
“She doesn’t just want to be with a monster,” I say. “She understands them. She tries to capture something real with every toy she creates. Not the sanitized fantasy version humans usually want, but the actual weight, the stretch, the intensity. She designs for people who crave the impossible.”
“So she’s a kinky human. That’s not exactly rare.”
“It’s more than that. It’s longing. She aches the way I ache.
She’s spent her whole life feeling like she doesn’t fit, like she wants something no one else understands.
And when I felt that, when I recognized that same loneliness in her—” Something shifts in the air around me when I say it.
The pressure drops, and the shadows in the corner of the bar pull slightly toward me the way they do when I stop managing my alternate form.
“I knew she was mine. And when she comes back, I’m not letting her leave again. ”
Riven finishes his drink and stands. “Good luck, friend. I hope she’s worth the torment.”
She is.
I watch him disappear into the crowd, then return my attention to the door.
I think about Lilith in her apartment, probably trying to convince herself that meeting me was nothing but a dream.
I think about her touching herself in the shower, desperate and unsatisfied, because toys will never be enough now that she knows I exist.
I think about the way she trembled when my tentacles wrapped around her legs. The way her pupils dilated when I told her I wanted everything.
She’s fighting it. Fighting herself. But she’ll lose. The pull between us is too strong. The bond waiting to snap into place runs too deep. She’ll come back to me. And when she does—
The door opens. My head snaps up; every sense immediately focused on the entrance.
And there she is.
Lilith steps into The Undertow, her purple hair catching the light. She’s wearing jeans and a dark hoodie; her hands shoved in her pockets. She looks nervous and uncertain, and her eyes scan the bar until they find me.
The moment our gazes lock, relief and hunger crash through me simultaneously. I set my glass down and stand, every tentacle coiled tight with the effort of not crossing the room in three strides and claiming her right here.
She came back for me. She chose me. She realizes we’re destined to be together.
Her lips part slightly. I can see the desire in her eyes; the need that mirrors my own. Slowly, deliberately, I extend my hand toward her. She takes a shaky breath, then walks toward me.
And I know with absolute certainty that I’m never letting her go.