Chapter 5
Basil
Pushing away, I put distance between us again, giving her space but also stepping back before I do something I may regret.
Despite the distance, the urge coursing through my body, tensing my muscles, and making my skin itch, persists.
I need to be near her. Or at least nearer.
Standing across from her in her own bedroom, where her scent and her things surround me, I find myself becoming overwhelmed, making it hard to think straight.
And the fear as it rolls off her… fuck, it’s intoxicating.
But she’s right. If I’m not taking her soul, I have no real reason to stay here.
Except that I can’t seem to make myself leave.
I don’t even know her name yet, but I can only assume it will be as beautiful as she is. “I am Basil, by the way,” I say, exaggerating the opening syllable as if I am pretending to be a lamb—Baahh-sil. “Basil Fernsby.” The scent of her fear lessens. Interesting.
“That doesn’t sound like the name of a soul-stealing Boogeyman.”
“Oh? What do you think my name should be?”
She folds her arms across her chest, making her plump breasts perk up. “I don’t know. Something dark—not Basil,” she replies, her voice shaking ever-so-slightly.
“Well, it is a name that has passed through generations of my family. It is strong and resilient. Perhaps you could tell me your name.”
She hesitates, nibbling her bottom lip as she considers my request. Where I am from, our names carry power, and so we do not shy away from sharing them, allowing others to recognize who they are dealing with. However, her hesitation suggests that it is not the same here.
“Iris,” she whispers, but my superior hearing picks it up as though she were screaming at me, and I was right. Her name is the second most beautiful sound I’ve heard. The first being her scream. My name, coming from her lips, is perhaps the third.
“Iris,” I repeat, my voice gravelly enough that it hints at the desire coursing through my body. The way her eyes flick quickly to me and then away makes me wonder if she feels it too.
“Can I ask something?”
“Anything.” Please. Ask me everything.
“If you aren’t stealing my soul and won’t leave… what are you planning on doing?”
My skin heats as my eyes flare crimson. “What would you like me to do?”
She shifts under the blanket before pulling it up to her neck, the unspoken suggestion making her flush.
Try as she might, my abilities make her efforts to hide her response futile.
I can sense all of her emotions and can see through that stupid blanket she keeps trying to use as a shield.
And what I can see is perfection. While I can’t see everything, I can see the shape of her form.
Her curves, folds, and rolls. Every ounce of it is enough to send me back to Hell for my thoughts alone.
“I—I would like you to go,” she eventually says, stumbling over her words as she musters the courage.
I would like you to go.
Her words pierce me in a way I have never experienced before. Flaying me open and leaving me bare before her.
No one has ever even thought to tell me to leave, let alone actually say those sad and pitiful words.
Though they typically don’t have the chance to either, as I don’t make it a practice to engage in conversation with a target before taking their souls.
Focus and hunger are what drive me, and being thrown off course like I have tonight has me feeling like I am weightless. Adrift. Falling with an impending doom.
All because of a scent I was captured by. And a profile in the dark that stopped me in my tracks.
And now, I stand here, being told to leave? I can’t have it. I won’t have it.
My chest puffs out as I suck in a breath, hoping to stop the rage quickly churning inside me.
Being rebuked is not a wonderful feeling, especially when I have already shared that she is to be spared.
“You seem to be mistaken, petal.” My voice is tight like a high wire as I speak through clenched teeth.
My body tense, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. “I am not leaving here without you.”
Her eyes widen in the dark as her mouth drops open, apparently not expecting that revelation. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly as I said. I may be sparing your soul, but in exchange, you are now mine and shall travel with me back to Hell.”
“I-I can’t. I won’t.”
“You have no choice.”
Stepping toward the edge of her bed again, I reach out with my senses for the portal I still plan to close as she follows me home.
Only… it’s no longer there. My knees hit the ground as I crouch under the bed, seeking the opening.
My exit back to my world. The world where she will be by my side as my bride.
Nothing.
No soft glow. No thread to connect me to my home.
It’s gone.
“What’s wrong?” she asks softly from the door. I was so preoccupied that I didn’t even sense her move around me.
“Slight change of plans, petal.”
The door creaks open, and she sucks in a breath. “Oh?”
I turn to face her, crimson lighting up the room. “My portal has disappeared, and I am stuck here until I figure out a way to open it.”
She dashes from the room, darting around a corner, but my precious flower is not nearly fast enough to escape me.
I launch after her, catching up to her in three strides.
My arms wrap around her middle. I spin us so her back is against the wall, and cage her in.
Brushing the back of my hand against her cheek, watching it quiver as a tear rolls down, I lean in and whisper into her ear, “And you, Iris, are going to help me find a way back home.”