Sell Your Heart Prologue
Emerson Golding was perched at the top of West’s hotel bed, his ethereal, invisible body floating just above the headboard. He fluttered his white-feathered wings in agitation.
The only outlet for the rage swirling inside of him came in the form of gnawing on his thumbnail and glaring down at the guy who was grinding himself on top of West.
Emerson’s lip curled as West’s latest hookup pulled off his shirt. He couldn’t even properly enjoy the sight of West’s naked chest with the loud, obnoxious kissing noises they were making.
West moaned, and Emerson shuddered in disgust. The interloper had accidentally found the sensitive spot behind West’s ear.
What the stupid prick didn’t know was how much West liked when Emerson’s teeth nibbled on the outer shell.
West would shiver with need, and Emerson would run his lips down the column of West’s neck and nuzzle his face into the crook of his shoulder so neither of them had to see what they were doing to one another.
They could just let their bodies take control, shutting off their minds and the bombardment of questions that were always waiting for them.
What were they doing?
What did it all mean?
The trespasser worked his way down West’s body and started unceremoniously pulling at his pants, yanking them off without any grace or finesse.
He probably thought it was sexy, the way he was pawing at West, but Emerson just thought he looked desperate and pathetic.
He refused to acknowledge he’d probably looked the same way when they’d hooked up.
Desperation and desire plagued him anytime he was near West. Even dying hadn’t changed that.
Emerson floated to the side of the bed and kneeled on the floor.
He was dismayed to see West was hard and straining against the fabric of his tight boxers.
A good person would be happy that West had moved on from whatever strange relationship he and Emerson were in six years ago.
But Emerson was not a good person. He hated watching West leave a steady trail of conquests in every city Tilted Haze toured in.
It gutted him that those men could erase every memory West had of their time together.
Except as the latest nameless man took West into his mouth, impatient and clumsy, West wasn’t staring down at him with the rapt attention and glassy, hooded eyes that Emerson had always received.
West’s eyes were squeezed shut, his head thrown back, neck arched, tendons bulging.
His fingers gripped the bedcovers until his knuckles were white.
Emerson flattened his forearms on the bed and rested his chin on his stacked hands, right next to West’s face.
Sick satisfaction bubbled through him that West wasn’t looking at the man giving him head.
He could pretend West was thinking about him instead.
Although he wished he could see West’s eyes, the warm amber irises with a dark-brown ring on the outside.
Sweet, kind eyes. West was a good person. Much better than Emerson had ever been.
He ran a ghostly fingertip down the center of West’s chest toward his belly button, where West’s diamond piercing sparkled from the moonlight outside the window.
His finger continued through the coarser dark hair at the base of his cock and up again.
Emerson couldn’t feel West’s skin, but he pretended that he could.
He pretended that his hand wasn’t floating right through him.
Emerson retraced the path he had made and swirled his finger around the center of West’s heart.
With Emerson’s angelic vision, he could see West’s soul.
Most people had white souls, but West was special.
Magic lived in his veins, and his soul glowed a vibrant purple, the deep violet of amethyst with its shining white edges.
The power within his soul hummed a beautiful melody, calling to Emerson and drawing him in.
Emerson leaned over the bed and put his lips to West’s ear, pretending to lick and trace his tongue along the outer shell. When West shivered, Emerson pretended it was from his touch.
West’s breathing began to change, and Emerson knew he was close to coming. The bastard sucking him off seemed to know it too because he sped up, licking and slurping and being annoying.
West’s eyes were still squeezed shut, his forehead furrowed in concentration. He shouldn’t need to focus this hard. He should be out of his mind with pleasure. That was how Emerson made him, or maybe that was just a false memory Emerson created to feel less alone in his afterlife.
Emerson wrapped his hand around West’s cock and floated his body on top of him. He nuzzled his face into his neck and dipped his tongue into the little depression behind his earlobe piercing, pretending that he was the one getting West off.
West’s body clenched, and Emerson leaned back to watch his face scrunch up in pleasure. West sucked in a breath, gasping as he came with a low moan. “Em—mmm.”
Shock jolted through Emerson. His wings flapped, flying him away from the bed. He hovered near the ceiling.
West jerked a few times, his soul flickering brighter for a second, and then he collapsed, melting into a puddle.
Emerson barely paid attention as West caught his breath, coordinated clean-up, and swiftly showed the man to the door.
Normally, Emerson loved this part of the night, when West would kick the men out without reciprocation.
Most of them didn’t even care. They got to suck off a rock star.
Sometimes they got upset or indignant, and Emerson would laugh at West’s misery and sidestepping.
It pleased him to no end that West never reciprocated.
But he couldn’t enjoy any of that tonight because he was still replaying the word West mumbled.
It was just a moan, he thought. It wasn’t my name.
Emerson swallowed his disappointment and floated closer to West, standing behind him as he showed his conquest out. The door closed, and West leaned his forehead against it. He clicked the lock, and it echoed in the empty hotel room.
West turned, pressing his back to the door. His eyes scanned the room. Fear radiated off of him in waves. His face went ashen, and Emerson sensed his heart racing.
West inhaled a ragged breath, and Emerson startled when his eyes landed right on him. “Em?” he whispered. “Are you here?”
Emerson was nothing more than a ghost—an angel, technically.
He’d died and didn’t have a heartbeat anymore, but for some reason a pain ignited in his chest, a throbbing ache that ripped through him so hard it weakened his knees.
He rubbed at the spot below his collarbone, wondering if angels could have heart attacks.
Wide-eyed shock froze him in place, and then awe and excitement took over…and hope.
Six years. Emerson had been trying to get West’s attention, get his twin brother Remi’s attention, get anyone’s fucking attention—for six goddamn years. This was the first time anyone had acknowledged his presence.
West’s hands clenched into fists, and his fear shifted into something else, something that Emerson was very acquainted with seeing in his past lover. Anger.
“Em?” he bit out. “If you are there, then I want you to go away. Just leave me the fuck alone.”
Emerson’s heart continued throbbing, but his shock started to fade as the cold creep of rejection washed over him.
His hope congealed into something sick and twisted, and his face fell into a deadened expression.
A passivity weighed down his limbs and sank his floating body to the ground.
Emerson ran his tongue over the outside of his upper teeth and leveled his glare at West.
“Get the fuck out!” West yelled, throwing his arms up as if to shoo Emerson away. “Leave me alone!”
West looked so ridiculous, flapping his arms in the air, yelling at an empty room. The situation was so incredible. Unbelievable. So absurd. The corner of Emerson’s lip twitched.
West panted, his chest rising and falling in heavy bursts as his rage boiled over. He glared into the space, into every corner of the room, looking for something he would never find.
Emerson’s passivity snapped and shifted into deranged humor. He grinned like the monster he’d become—the monster he’d always been. A mockery of what the white wings on his back represented. Insanity gripped him, and he folded over laughing.
Laughing and laughing, like an evil lunatic.
“I hate you,” West said, low and vicious. “Hate you.”
Emerson kept laughing as West seethed. He’d always enjoyed West’s anger. Enjoyed that he was one of the only people who could ever affect him. When he finally caught his breath, he wiped the tears from his eyes.
He floated to West, hovering around him in circles a few times, taunting him, before settling behind him.
Emerson wrapped his ghostly arms around West, curling his white wings in to cocoon them both, and said, “I know what I want now, West. And you once told me all I had to do to get what I wanted was take it.” He pressed his wicked smile into the back of West’s neck.
“So I will. There’ll be nowhere you can run.
Nowhere you can hide. I’m not leaving you alone now that you’re finally mine. ”