Chapter 17 Aurora
Aurora
When my hand slips into his, I don’t flinch or back away. It doesn’t feel disgusting or wrong or terrifying. Threading my fingers through his feels warm and safe.
The space where our palms meet crackles with electricity as he leads me back to my bedroom. A wisp of shadow curls up my wrist, brushes against my pulse, then bolts the second it realizes I caught it creeping.
Devious little gremlins. And yet, they’re starting to grow on me.
Standing in the doorway, watching Ezra pull down my covers, I realize I didn’t think this through. I want him close, but not in my bed.
And yet, the thought of him in the living room feels … wrong.
Ezra catches me staring. I don’t know what expression I’m wearing, but it must be concerning, because his brows draw together.
“Do you need anything else, Aurora?” His voice is softer now, shrinking the monster down to something almost human. Something I might trust. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me. I know Louie said you wanted to talk, but we can save that for tomorrow. You must rest.”
He’s pulling back, giving me space. And suddenly, I don’t want him to.
“Would you sit in here with me?” The words rush out before I can stop them. “I can grab a chair from the kitchen. I’d feel safer if you were closer.”
A flicker of something crosses his face. It looks like relief, but there’s something else threaded through it. Something human. Something he doesn’t have words for yet.
His shadows curl slightly inward, a pulse of tension across his knuckles. But it’s gone in a blink.
“Yes, Aurora. Whatever you wish.”
He disappears for a moment, then returns with my overstuffed reading chair, moving it like it weighs nothing. How can someone so strong have such a soft touch?
Ezra places the chair in the corner, three feet from my bed.
“Is this okay, Aurora? I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
My body moves before my mind catches up. I close the distance between us and crash into him, arms wrapping tight around his waist.
The shadows react before he does, curling around my wrists like they’ve been waiting for this—bracing for impact, ready to hold me together.
The tears come back hot and fast, burning down my cheeks no matter how hard I fight them.
Ezra stills, then slowly lowers his head, resting his cheek against my hair.
“Thank you, Ezra,” I murmur, the sound lost in the warmth of his chest. “I really thought I was going to die. I owe you so much more than I could ever give.”
Ezra falls to his knees with a choked whimper, penance bleeding through every inch of him. His shadows follow, blackened echoes sinking into the floor.
He doesn’t beg. He doesn’t plead.
But his grey, riptide eyes offer something I never thought I’d see from him.
Surrender.
“You owe me nothing, Aurora.” His voice is rough. “All I want to do is keep you safe. To see you smile.” A bitter, broken chuckle vibrates against my chest. “Which is so fucking confusing, because I don’t give a shit about anyone. But for you?” His grip tightens. “I would do anything.”
Shadows curl around my ankles, restless and alive against my skin.
Ezra exhales sharply, his jaw clenching. “Even if you asked me to never contact you again, it wouldn’t change the fact that you belong to me … and I belong to you.”
The words slip under my skin and stay there, warm and heavy with truth, verging on something I might believe, if I let myself.
“I will forever be sorry I violated your trust,” he continues. “I should have made my presence known. I should have done … all of it differently. Hell, I don’t know.”
He presses his cheek lightly against my sternum, his breath brushing against my neck. “I just need to be near you, Aurora. I promise I will never betray your trust again. Please …”
His voice is barely more than a whisper. “Can you forgive me?”
Ezra looks up at me from his knees, his storm-grey eyes raw with something I can’t define. I reach out before I can stop myself, running a finger over the furrow in his brow.
His shadows twitch, flickering up my wrist before hesitantly curling around my fingers as if they’re trying to understand why I’m touching him. When I pull away, they hesitate before snapping back.
“I forgive you, Ezra.” The words come more easily than I expected.
“I’m willing to give you another chance. Please don’t fuck it up.”
Ezra rises, tugging me a step closer, his lips grazing the back of my hand, unwilling to let go. Shadows coil around my wrist, trailing after his lips, desperate to leave a mark, too.
“I won’t, Aurora. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. But I want you. And if that means I need to change? Then I will try. For you.”
His thumb strokes over my knuckles before he finally lets go, settling into the chair.
“Now.” His voice turns commanding again. “Take some medicine, ice your neck, and try to rest. I will be here watching over you.”
While I do what he asks, doubt creeps in.
Can he really change?
Can I let myself believe that?
A shudder rips through me, my body curling inward as I pull the blankets to my chin.
My breath catches, loud in the quiet, like I’ve forgotten how to breathe without shaking.
The images wriggle deep inside my mind like maggots on rotted flesh, burrowing under my thoughts and picking at the frayed edges of my resolve.
Jameson’s hands.
His voice.
The way he laughed when he told me what he’d do.
Something festers in my gut, searing its way through me, dissolving the walls of my body, each pulse of pain a slow acid burn through tissue.
It could have been worse. It should have been worse. But his words cling to me like filth, burrowing under my skin, sinking deeper with every breath.
A whisper of movement stirs at the edges of my vision. Shadows stretch, reaching for something they never quite touch. Just waiting.
I close my eyes, hoping the images don’t follow me into the dark.
I jolt awake, my body twitching violently. The room is too quiet, too still. I blink into the dark, trying to focus. When my eyes finally adjust, I realize his chair is empty. Of course it is.
So much for second chances.
Lying on my back, I listen for whatever woke me.
The woods outside are quiet. My house isn’t.
The floor creaks.
Except it’s not the usual settling sounds. It’s heavier.
Like weight shifting.
Like someone’s there.
I try to scream, but thick globs of panic clog my throat. Out of the darkness, something solid—something real—appears before I can make a sound.
A voice purrs in my ear. “Miss me, baby girl?”
No. No, this isn’t happening. This isn’t—
His fingers find my throat. Not squeezing. Just stroking. Tracing the bruises. Savoring his own handiwork.
“You didn’t think I’d leave you unfinished, did you?”
His breath ghosts across my skin, warm and damp.
“I promised you a long night.”
This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
His fingers curl against my throat, mapping the shape of my terror.
“You were just a job at first,” he breathes. “A stepping stone for the Disciples. For Isa. But now?”
Lips drag across my jaw. There’s nothing spectral about it. Just fucking skin and heat, leaving behind a warmth that scorches across my skin.
It’s too real. Too human.
“Now, I think I’ll haunt you forever.”
He inhales slowly, savoring the scent of my fear.
“I’ll whisper to you when you’re alone. Linger in the corners of your mind. Crawl into your bed and tear down every wall you build to keep me out.”
He presses a grin to my cheek. “Your body was only the beginning, baby girl. It’s your mind I really want.”
Fingertips press into the darkest bruises, just enough to send sharp pain curling through my nerves.
“You feel so good like this, little monster. So soft. So breakable. I could do it now. Slip inside you. Crack you open. Pull you apart, piece by piece. No one’s here to stop me. No one’s coming. Not even him.”
The fingers pause, pressing just a little harder.
“You know,” he murmurs thoughtfully, “I really should thank you.”
A slow, thoughtful hum echoes in my ear. The fingers ease up, shifting lower, tracing the dip of my collarbone.
“I thought he’d come for me. Rip me apart. Make me pay. But why would he bother? He saw what I did to you. Saw the filth I left behind. And now?”
He snorts softly, the sound melting into a satisfied chuckle.
“He knows you’re ruined. Tainted. Used. Worthless. Why would he want a broken whore like you?”
He nuzzles into my cheek, his slow, steady breath making my skin prickle.
“But don’t worry, baby girl. I still want you.”
A beat of silence. And then, something wet presses against my neck. A tongue traces the bruises, savoring the pain, dragging over the places where his hands had been.
Where he squeezed too hard.
Where he laughed while I choked.
Where I begged him to stop.
“Mmm. Still so fucking sweet.”
Jameson growls—a rough, animal sound—as his hands clamp around my throat.
My body locks up, breath trapped tight behind my ribs.
But then I remember—there aren’t any drugs in my system this time.
So, I fight like hell. I’ll take his fucking eyes this time.
Even if he kills me, he’ll always fucking remember me.
As I fight for my life, something shifts in my consciousness. The monster snarls. Hands tighten. The world narrows to black …
And then … a flicker. A shift. Jameson’s face blurs at the edges, shadows peeling away.
Ezra.
Ezra?
His weight pins my legs, and his fingers flex around my wrists. But it’s his wide, terrified eyes that drag me back from the nightmare.
“Let me go! Right the fuck now!”
When he does, I jump from the bed, then scramble to the far side of the room.
“Aurora. Please listen to me …”
“What the fuck, Ezra! I gave you a second chance, and what? You couldn’t wait an hour before taking a shit on the promises you made?”
My body shakes with rage, my heart slams in my chest, and my breath is so short my head spins.
Panic attacks are a motherfucker. And this one’s shaping up to be a goddamn event.