Chapter 15 Ezra #2
“Yes, yes. Fangs. Fury. I’m shaking.”
I find no broken ribs. No new wounds beneath the dried blood. Just her slow, shallow breaths. It’s enough for now.
“I need you to watch her,” I say, finally meeting Louie’s mismatched gaze. “I need to know she’s safe so I can focus my energy on making Jameson hurt. Can you do that for me?”
“Is she going to be okay?” Louie asks softly, curling up beside her mistress.
“Honestly? I don’t know. But we have a tough conversation ahead of us. One that she will most likely reject outright. It seems she hasn’t gained her power yet, so convincing Aurora of her lineage will prove … complicated.”
I glance down at the hound. “Still … between my shadowed composition and her dog suddenly speaking, she might be more open to the idea. I’ll be back as soon as I’m finished.”
Louie whimpers as she presses her head to Aurora’s chest, canine eyes heavy with guilt.
She blames herself.
But I was here earlier. And I ignored every instinct that told me Jameson meant to harm her, too.
When I return to the truck, my shadows are already moving. They gather like revenants, beastly and trembling, hungry for blood.
They’re not just dramatic little wretches after all.
Good.
They can taste what’s coming. So can I.
Jameson is awake. He doesn’t move—not a single muscle twitches—but his eyes flick toward the creeping darkness.
He sees them … sees me.
“Hello, Jameson.”
My lips curl with lazy contempt, cold as the shadows gathering behind me. This is going to be so much fun.
“It’s time to show you what I can really do.”
I shift into my Umbraeth, pouring into the truck like a living void, seeping into every crack and crevice, winding around him, inside him, through him.
My shadows latch on to his silent whimpers, scenting his weakness. Jameson’s breath stutters out. I can taste his fear in the expired air, and I know if I sank my teeth into his lips, I’d be able to drink his terror while I gorged on his rot.
“Do you think this is how she felt when your hands were around her neck?” The question vibrates through the black. “When you shoved your cock down her throat?”
The shadows flex. Bones snap. Jameson gurgles, choking on the pain.
“Don’t worry, Jameson,” I murmur, letting my darkness coil tighter around him, “I won’t make this quick.”
His ribs bend. His arms fracture.
“I’m going to make you suffer. Make you beg for your pathetic, disgusting life.”
Another crack. His femur, this time. The sound is fucking exquisite.
I shift back into my L?kkda, solid again, and pat his cheek like I would a petulant child. His muscles twitch, desperate to get away, as blood blooms brighter across the whites of his eyes.
“You didn’t scream for me, Jameson.” I sigh, shaking my head. “I’m so disappointed.”
A thin shadow wraps lazily around his throat, more noose than comfort, but soft enough to confuse him.
“Let’s see what we can do about that.”
I grab his foot and rip him from the truck, his head slamming into the running board.
“Careful,” I murmur, laughter rumbling low in my chest.
Shadows slither behind me as I tow the useless meat into the woods. They coil and flicker, tasting the blood, trailing eager tongues along his torn flesh.
When I stop, they melt back into the trees, lining the clearing like hounds bred for violence, waiting for the call to strike.
“Yes. This will do nicely. Beautiful fall leaves, stars in the sky, a soft breeze. It’s a perfect night to die screaming for your mum.”
My bare foot slams against his chest as shadows curl around my heel, eager to follow.
Jameson lets out a wet, rattling sound, drugged and broken beyond speech.
I crouch beside him, slowly trailing my fingers along his arm before wrapping my fingers around his wrist.
“You know,” I muse, fingers flexing, “I’m billions of years old, and I’ve never met anyone quite like Aurora.” My shadows pulse at her name. “She speaks to a part of my soul I didn’t know existed.”
With my free hand, I clamp down just above his elbow, grinning like something that’s worn a thousand faces but has never forgotten the smile beneath them.
His breath hitches … and with a savage aching joy, I rip the limb free with a wet snap.
Jameson screams.
Finally.
I straddle his chest, rolling my shoulders as I lift the bloodied limb to my mouth.
“Eyes on me, Jamey,” I purr, the rasp in my throat making the threat unmistakable.
And Jameson? He obeys.
He watches as I sink my teeth into his flesh.
He watches as I peel muscle from bone.
He watches as I consume him, piece by bloody piece.
And when I finish, when there’s nothing left of his arm but torn skin and dripping marrow, I lick the blood from my fingers and grin.
“Jesus Christ,” I hum, scraping my teeth along his other forearm, savoring his heat and the salt on his skin.
“You must have been a very naughty boy, Jamey. Sweetest flesh I’ve tasted in a long time.”
Jameson is gasping now, eyes wide, a wet, pathetic whimper slipping past his lips.
Excellent. Let him feel small.
I lean in slowly, the pressure building until his ribs crack beneath me with a beautiful, resonant sound.
With my empty hand, I grab his chin and tilt his head.
“Look me in the eye while your bones crunch between my teeth.”
I bite down on the stripped bone, the crack reverberating like music through my skull. The taste of hot blood and marrow coat my tongue, while my shadows ripple with pleasure.
When the coward tries to turn away, I force his head back.
“No, no. Don’t look away. You came here to hunt monsters. And you found one.”
I smirk, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“If I were the kind of monster you are, this is the part where I’d shove my cock down your throat.”
I lean closer, my voice dropping into a deep, echoing growl.
“But I’m not a rapist, Jameson. You are.”
The meat twitches as he sobs, thick and gasping like he still believes he deserves breath. His body trembles violently, blood steaming where it hits the cold.
My shadows slither over him, curling in delight, teasing at the open wounds. What a delicious little hypocrite, one seems to whisper against his skin.
Pleasure drags my eyes half-shut as I lean down to whisper, “Let’s see if the other arm tastes just as sweet.”
By the time I finish his second arm, the drugs have worn off completely, and his broken screams echo through the trees.
“That’s it, mate.” My voice is soft, almost loving. “You owe me your screams, your pain, and your tears for what you did to her.”
I drag my lips along his blood-streaked cheek, slow enough to make him shudder.
“Do you want to beg for your mum now?” I whisper.
Jameson gasps, his breath hitching on a sob.
“F-f-fuck you, m-monster.”
Something deep and savage rumbles through me—a sound older than laughter and heavier than joy.
“You think I’m the monster? You were going to fuck her broken body, cut off her head, and leave her in the dirt like trash.”
My nails trail down his trembling chest, dragging thin lines through the blood slicking his skin.
“You thought you were going to be remembered for this, didn’t you?” I murmur, my voice thick with mockery. “You thought you were going to be important.”
I lean in, lips grazing his cheek.
“But after tonight, the only thing anyone will remember about you … is how you screamed for me.”
A grin splits my mouth, too sharp to be human.
My breath ghosts against his ear. “The difference between us? I don’t need to rape women to feel powerful.”
I take three slow steps back, watching him try and fail to move. He gasps through blood and spit, his breath wet and broken, terror blooming in his eyes.
Beautiful.
I crouch beside him, gripping his leg at the thigh, savoring the way he flinches beneath my touch.
“You’re not even going to fight? No last-ditch attempt to save your worthless life?” I taunt, tilting my head.
A pathetic whimper spills from his lips. “No, please, don’t …”
I grin, slow and sharp.
“Ah, there it is. I fucking love it when humans reach this stage. Tell me, what would you give me if I stopped?”
“I-I don’t know. Anything?” Jameson whimpers through shuddering breaths.
“That’s a pretty shitty offer.” I click my tongue, feigning disappointment.
My grip tightens, and his pulse flutters beneath my fingers like a butterfly pinned to paper.
“What I really want is to bathe in your blood and devour every inch of your body.”
A broken sob wracks through him. “No.”
I moan softly, drunk on his fear, his pleading, the way his breath stumbles through another pathetic please.
“Fuck yes. Now the tears.”
I tighten my grip and tear, wrenching his leg from its socket with a wet, glorious pop.
Jameson screams until his throat gives out.
My shadows snap around his head, forcing his gaze to stay on me.
“You deserve this and more,” I murmur, studying his trembling, fading form.
“Hope you enjoy the void, Jamey.”
The shadows slink up his body, binding what’s left of him in black coils, tightening with each breath.
“You wanted to be important?” I hum as shadows curl into his open mouth, slipping between the fractures and seeping into the broken places.
“Instead, you’ll fade into nothing.”
The last breath leaves his lungs. The last spark in his pupils extinguishes.
The shadows devour what’s left.
I groan, running my bloodied hands over my chest, gathering the evidence of his suffering. I drag my stained fingers over my cock, smearing his agony across my skin.
My shadows pulse, flickering with the rhythm of my hand.
When I come with her name on my lips, they shiver.
A growl builds deep in my throat before I spit on what’s left of Jameson’s body.
Fucking pathetic.
The memory of him breaking swells through me like a hymn. It hums in my blood and sings in my spine.
The thought alone is enough to make my cock twitch.
I inhale deeply.
Fully fucking satisfied.
The woods are silent. Even the wind has stopped, as if the universe itself is holding its breath.
Once I’ve wrestled control of myself, two paths open up before me.
I could walk away. Return to my horribly pointless but extremely safe existence.
Or I could walk back to Aurora’s house. Satisfy the aching pull in my chest. And become involved with a Daughter of the Morning Star.
Fuck.
There was never a choice.
And for some reason, that realization makes a flush bloom across my bloodstained skin.
I start back toward Aurora’s home, sated and more at peace than any man covered in blood has a right to be.
My shadows slither back into me, but they’re still restless, still hungry.
They’re learning. They know her name now.
And just like me, they want more.