Chapter 11
Esme
I stare at the door, watching the space where Duske just disappeared, and I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong.
He looked so tense, so controlled, like he was holding himself together by a thread.
I want to go after him, to tell him that whatever darkness he's worried about showing me isn't going to scare me away.
But I stay where I am, sandwiched between Vesper and Milo on the couch.
Then I feel something wrap beneath the blanket around my thigh, something warm and leathery that sends a shiver up my spine. I throw the blanket off and stare down at Vesper's tail wrapped around my leg, the appendage moving with a life of its own as it tightens its grip.
I laugh, the sound bubbling up from my chest. "I thought that wasn't supposed to come out."
Vesper grins, his hazel eyes darkening. "Duske isn't here, and no one's going to know."
I meet his gaze, my heart racing with anticipation. "Show me all of it. Not just the tail."
Vesper's expression shifts, something primal flickering in his eyes, and I watch in fascination as his body begins to change.
His skin darkens, taking on a black, leathery texture that gleams in the dim light of the living room.
Small horns sprout from his head, curling back slightly, and his eyes shift from hazel to a deep, dark red that seems to glow from within.
His fingers elongate, talons forming where his nails used to be, and his clothes simply disappear, leaving him completely naked and utterly transformed.
I gasp, not in fear, but in awe. This is Vesper, the real Vesper, the chaos demon I fell in love with without even knowing what he truly was. And he's beautiful.
But then I feel another leathery tail wrap around my arm, and I twist around to see Milo grinning at me. His grin is almost devilish now, his eyes narrowed into slits with that orange hue flickering in them. His forked tongue darts out, tasting the air, and I can't help but lean in for a kiss.
His lips meet mine and I melt into him. His tongue explores my mouth, the forked edge teasing and strange and perfect. His hands fall to my waist, pulling me closer, and then I hear a grumble from behind me.
I pull away from Milo and twist around, my breath catching in my throat.
Vesper is standing now, fully transformed, and the sight of him steals every coherent thought from my mind.
I reach over, my fingers trembling slightly as I run them down his chest. His skin is warmer than I expected, and the texture is smooth and firm beneath my touch.
Milo presses his heat against my back, his body pressing against mine, and then his forked tongue runs up the side of my neck. I gasp, heat building in my belly, spreading through me like wildfire. My scent blooms, Vesper's nostrils flaring in response.
"You're not scared?" Milo murmurs against my skin, his breath warm on my neck.
I shake my head, unable to tear my gaze away from Vesper's transformed form. It's everything I never knew I needed to see. "Should I be? He's gorgeous."
Milo chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest and into my back where we're pressed together. "I don't look like that. Not really. More like Halloween."
I frown, curiosity sparking as I start to twist around to look at him. I want to see all of them, want to understand every facet of who they are. But Milo's hand comes up to gently straighten my head, keeping my gaze locked on Vesper. "Just focus on him right now, okay?"
I go to say something, to argue that I want to see all of them equally, but then my fingers slip through Vesper.
One second I'm touching solid, warm skin, feeling the heat radiating from his demonic form, and the next my hand passes right through him like he's made of smoke.
My eyes widen, panic flaring in my chest as I reach out instinctively to catch myself, to find something solid.
And then I slip through reality itself.
It's like falling through water, the sensation disorienting and wrong.
The world around me dissolves into nothing, colors bleeding together before everything snaps back into focus with a jarring suddenness.
I'm sitting in a booth now, a vinyl seat beneath me, and I blink rapidly, trying to orient myself.
My heart races as I look around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.
I'm in a restaurant? The little Italian place a few streets over, the one with the red tablecloths and the smell of garlic bread in the air. Some of my senses are available to me but I can’t feel anything. It’s very disorienting.
I blink a few more times and then look to my right, realizing I somehow transported myself to sit right next to Duske and across from my fucking sister.
"This is bullshit," I mutter, staring at my sister with barely contained fury.
Duske frowns, his head turning slightly in my direction though his eyes don't quite find me. He can sense me, I realize, but he can't see me. I wave my hand in front of his face experimentally, and he doesn't react, his gaze remaining fixed forward.
"Can you hear me?" I ask, raising my voice slightly. Duske nods, the movement so subtle that anyone else would miss it completely. But I catch it, and relief floods through me like a wave. The weird part is that Liora can’t. Not exactly the ghost powers I wanted, but it’ll do.
"I don't know what happened or why I'm here," I say quickly, leaning closer to him, my words tumbling out in a rush.
"I was about to get fucked, and now I'm here. "
Duske smirks, the expression fleeting but unmistakable. I can see the amusement dancing in his dark eyes, even as he maintains his focused stare on Liora across the table.
"Did you tell her yet?" I ask, glancing at my sister with renewed hatred.
Duske clears his throat in response, and then his phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket with practiced ease, glancing at the screen before answering. "Yeah."
I can hear Vesper's voice on the other end, panicked and frantic in a way I've never heard from him before. "Duske, she's gone. One second she was here, and the next she just disappeared. I don't know what happened. I don't know how to—"
"She's here with me," Duske interrupts, his tone calm, a stark contrast to Vesper's panic. "Don't worry about it."
He hangs up before Vesper can respond, shoving the phone back into his pocket. I stare at him, my heart still racing from the sudden shift between planes, my mind struggling to catch up with what just happened.
"Can you see me?" I ask, even though I already know the answer from his earlier reactions.
Duske shakes his head, the movement once again slight that Liora doesn't notice. But I see it, and I sigh, slumping back against the booth in frustration.
Liora sits up a little, her expression eager and expectant, like a cat that thinks it's about to get cream.
She's wearing that red dress she wore on prom night like ten years ago, the one that's way too low-cut, the fucker leaning forward like she's trying to give Duske a better view of her cleavage.
It's pathetic, really, watching her try so hard for men who have never wanted her.
"So," she says, her voice bright and artificially cheerful. "Where are Vesper and Milo? I thought they were coming too."
"I told you they were busy, Liora," Duske says flatly, not even pretending to be interested in the conversation.
Liora pouts, her bottom lip jutting out in that way she thinks is cute. "But I wanted all of you here. This was supposed to be special."
"It's not," Duske says simply.
Liora blinks, her expression faltering as his words register.
"What?" She clears her throat and sighs before switching the direction of the conversation.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," Liora says, her voice dropping to what she probably thinks is a softer, more intimate tone.
She reaches across the table, her hand moving toward Duske's in a gesture that makes my stomach turn, but he pulls back smoothly before she can make contact.
"I need to make something clear," Duske says, his voice taking on a firmness that leaves no room for argument. "Whatever plans you had for us, whatever you thought was going to happen, it's not going to work. We're not your mates, Liora. We're not going home with you after the funeral."
Liora's face goes pale, the color draining from her cheeks before flushing red with anger. "What the fuck?"
Duske leans back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest in a posture of complete control. "Your ruthlessness when it came to dealing with Esme's death was already concerning. But now that we know you killed your sister, there's no point in pretending."
Liora bangs her hand on the table hard enough to make the silverware rattle, the sound echoing through the restaurant.
A few people turn to look, curious about the commotion, but she doesn't seem to care.
"Who the fuck told you that? What weird ass exorcism shit were you doing in that house? Did Esme tell you that?"
I laugh, the sound bitter with vindication. Duske's jaw tightens slightly, the only sign that he can hear me even if Liora remains oblivious.
"God, she was always a jealous bitch," Liora continues, her voice rising with each word, her composure cracking. "Always trying to get between us, always trying to make you guys think I was the bad guy. But I wasn't! I was just trying to—"
"Trying to what?" I ask, leaning forward even though I know she can't hear me. "Trying to kill me so you could have them all to yourself?"
Duske leans back further, his expression shifting to something calm and almost bored, which I know will infuriate her more than anything. "Hey, no need to prove yourself to me. You can do that to the police when they finish the investigation."
Liora grimaces, her hands clenching into tight fists on the table, her knuckles going white. "You can't be serious. You're going to report me? For what? You don't have any proof!"
"Don't I?" Duske asks, letting the question hang in the air between them.
Liora's eyes widen, genuine fear creeping into her expression now.
She's trying to figure out what he knows, how much he can prove, her mind visibly racing.
But she doesn't realize that Duske doesn't need proof in the traditional sense.
He's not bound by the same rules as humans, not limited by their systems of justice.
"This is bullshit," Liora hisses, her voice dropping to something low and venomous. "You're making this up. You're trying to turn everyone against me."
"I don't need to turn anyone against you," Duske says without inflection.
"You've done that all on your own." He moves to stand up, pushing back from the table and I slip out of the booth beside him.
Duske straightens his suit jacket, smoothing down the fabric as his gaze remains fixed on my sister's face.
"For the record," he says, and there's something final in his tone that makes even me shiver, "your sister wasn’t a jealous bitch.
Not when the men you've been trying to drag into your bed were already in hers. "