Chapter 8 Ezra
Ezra
This little human has me tangled, tied, and utterly consumed. I take a moment to walk around her small cottage to get my bearings and ensure there aren’t other dangers lurking in the shadows. When I’m satisfied I’m the only monster in the vicinity, I wander up to her bedroom window and peek inside.
The sweet human lies in her bed, curled up in a ball, fast asleep. Even through the walls of her home, something tugs violently at my chest, steering me toward her front door, where I shift into my Umbraeth so I can silently enter.
Once inside, I shift back to my L?kkda before I fully invade her privacy.
Her home is small and cozy.
Too cozy. Almost suffocating.
Art and band posters cover the walls. Every surface groans under the weight of knick-knacks and tchotchkes, each one whispering something about her I haven’t earned the right to know.
It feels lived in. Loved.
In her living room, I run my fingers over her threadbare reading chair while I scan her bookshelves. So much fantasy and science fiction.
Aurora is a dreamer, which may make her more receptive to my unique composition.
When I glance at the table beside the battered, overstuffed reading chair, my breath catches.
1Q84?
I’ve never met another soul who’s read it. Not one. And yet here it is—held in her hands, resting beside her chair, the pages bent and worn with use.
Something dark curls in my chest like a thread winding tighter and tighter.
1Q84 is an absolute favorite of mine. A strange thrill ripples through me at the prospect of discussing this book with the little human.
Underneath 1Q84, I find another favorite, The Only Good Indians.
Of course, I enjoy the classics, but even those were new once, so it’s exciting when I encounter unique stories written by brilliant authors.
Something inside of me is so goddamn pleased she has these books in her home that I want to rip my heart out and hand the still beating organ to her.
I really must pull it together.
This human may be a novel experience for me, but surely this obsessive attitude won’t last.
I put the books back on the table, then proceed to the kitchen.
There’s an enormous pile of mail on the counter, all addressed to Aurora Hagan.
Aurora suits the goddess lurking within that enigma of a woman. The way my tongue rolls in on itself when I say her name makes my mouth water with desire.
Standing in her kitchen, I take a moment to survey the rest of her small, cozy house before walking down the hall that must lead to her bedroom.
Even though it’s been less than two hours since I curled around her body at the bar, my nerves tingle with excitement as I quietly open her door.
Her honeysuckle-and-sunshine scent fills my senses, making my head spin as I enter her private sanctuary. Except in here it’s softer, diluted by the warmth of rumpled linen and a trace of lavender.
Aurora’s living room is spotless, almost curated, like a museum of the self she’s willing to show the world.
Her bedroom tells a different story.
It’s messy and raw.
Tangled sheets. Scattered clothes. Books stacked like barricades.
It’s not just lived in—it’s felt in.
The only decoration in the room is a photograph on the dresser—Aurora, a man I assume is her dad, and her mum.
Her father seems kind, but there’s a quiet intensity to him. The way he stands. The tattoos. The silver hair. It’s like he’s holding something back.
Hm.
Probably not worth lingering on.
Her mum, though … she has the same fire. The same otherness as Aurora.
Who the hell are these women?
And why the hell does Aurora’s blood hum like a song composed just for me?
Finally, I turn to the beauty in the bed. She’s shifted under the covers since I creepily peeked into her bedroom window.
I may be ancient and immortal, but even I know peering into a young woman’s bedroom window is the definition of creepy.
Shit, I suppose Eve had a point earlier this evening.
Kneeling beside her bed, I’m alarmed at how easily this strange little human has brought me to my knees without uttering a single fucking word.
Can other humans sense the power within her?
She fucking vibrates with it, even in her sleep.
I slide a strand of hair away from her face, still technically keeping my promise to Louie, at least enough to earn another shot at getting through the door without bloodshed.
It’s a small trespass.
And technically, I’m helping.
Wouldn’t want her to choke in her sleep.
That’d be a fucking tragedy.
Not that I care. Not really.
Or so I tell myself, as if that single moment of contact didn’t already brand me with her.
She shifts beneath the duvet, lips parting as she murmurs something soft into the dark. A rare, quiet smile spreads across my face. There are stars that died screaming and never saw anything this violently beautiful.
But then—my name.
No urgency. No awareness. Just a breath in the quiet.
And it roots me to the floor, the sound latching onto something primeval inside me.
I step back. Not out of fear. But recognition.
She doesn’t know what she’s done.
How could she?
She said my name like it belonged to her.
She can have it. Every fucking piece of me.
The little goddess reached for me in the dark.
And some ancient part of me aches to reach back.
Returning to her bedside, I kneel once more and stifle a groan when she whimpers my name again. Even though I’m close enough to touch her, I send a tendril of my shadow out to caress her flushed cheek.
She’s so fucking soft.
Visions flicker—her fingers in my hair, her thighs squeezing tight as she rides my cock, my hands digging into her sweet flesh, holding her like she’s the only thing that’s real in this pathetic, fucking world.
My shadows slam against the inside of my human meat suit, desperate to tear through and claim what’s ours.
Until now, my shadows didn’t want anything. They just were.
But when I touch her, they writhe violently against my skin, clawing toward her, desperate to reach her on their own.
They’ve never done this before.
I should be concerned. I should pull back. Rein them in.
But right now?
Right now, I don’t fucking care.
While I lose myself to the feeling of Aurora’s smooth, warm skin, her hand slips lower, over her perfect tits, and dips underneath the duvet.
My lungs seize, and I immediately pull my shadows back.
I can’t trust myself around her in this state.
What if I lose control?
How far can I stretch this promise to Louie before it snaps?
She’s dreaming about me. Whispering my name.
That means she wants me.
That means I’m allowed.
Beneath the duvet, her hand moves in a rhythm that coaxes the monster in me forward.
Her breathing shortens, quickens—each exhale fucking testing me.
A low groan rumbles in my throat before I can stop it, vibrating through me when I realize she’s touching herself while thinking about me.
I wrap a hand around my cock through my pants, matching the rhythm she’s set for herself.
I need this bloody duvet gone. It’s hiding what’s mine. And I won’t have that.
I need to see her gorgeous body writhe while she dreams about me.
It’s a risk, but one I welcome.
When I throw the duvet back, my heart pounds with some fucked-up desire to own this woman.
Which is ridiculous.
She wasn’t meant for a monster like me.
But I want her anyway.
One hand works slow, tight circles over her clit while the other roams her body like she knows I’m watching.
Something inside of me breaks wide open when Aurora pinches her stiff nipple and moans.
Fuck it. I already crossed the line.
And I refuse to turn back.
My shadows ache, begging to be let loose. One tendril slips free, snaking through the air toward her neck while I watch her fingers move faster beneath her underwear.
Fuck, all I can think about is how good her throat will look wrapped in black.
The shadow gliding across her skin takes shape, fingers forming around her delicate neck.
My nerves pulse and flare like lightning in a storm cloud, my body one strangled breath away from breaking.
Aurora’s eyes suddenly open, her unfocused gaze locking on mine.
Shit.
I go still.
If she screams, I deserve it.
If she claws at me, I won’t stop her.
But she doesn’t.
Her lids flutter shut.
Her fingers keep moving.
And by all the broken constellations, I stay right where I am.
Christ, how I want to tear those little black panties from her body, spread her open, and watch the way she likes to pleasure herself.
No. That’s a fucking lie.
What I really want is to slide my cock into her sweet, soaked little cunt and make her forget she was ever alone.
The shadowed hand applies more pressure to her neck, and I shiver when her body responds.
My shadows are unstable. Ravenous.
They don’t just want Aurora.
They want to devour her.
They stretch toward her like they’ll rot from the inside out if they don’t have her soon.
Instinct drives me. I tear open my belt and drag my zipper down, already so hard for her that it hurts.
“Fuck, yes,” I mutter as I wrap my hand around my cock.
Leaning forward, I take yet another risk and whisper in her ear.
“You have my full attention, little lupine. I’ve seen mountains carved, oceans turn to deserts—but nothing compares to you in this moment. Rub that sweet clit and show me what divinity looks like when it breaks.”
When my mouth grazes her ear, I drag my tongue across my lips, desperate to taste her. The sight of her with a shadowed hand around her throat while she fucks herself is enough to make me come, but I’m not done with her yet.
Every so often, the shadowed hand presses harder against her throat.
The hand wrapped around my cock tightens and pumps faster, making my balls ache for release.
Each time she says my name, I’m entranced, unable to look away.
I run a finger across the tip of my weeping cock, collect a bead of pre-cum, then smear it along her gorgeous lips. Aurora’s tongue darts out of her mouth, greedily lapping up everything I give her.
Such a good fucking girl.