Page 180 of Nightshade

“Did he hurt you, at all?” The tone of his voice carried a malicious promise.

“No, he didn’t hurt me. I honestly felt nothing with him. Just numb. I suppose there was always something missing. I blamed it on a number of things. Crappy childhood. School. Work. But perhaps the universe was just telling me to wait. Be patient.” I stared up at his perfect jawline and the way his skin carried an unearthly healthy glow. How utterly unattainable he would’ve seemed in my world. “I have to be honest with you. I’ve never loved before. I don’t even know if I understand entirely what it feels like.”

“It pleases me to know you’ve not given your heart to another.” Finger hooked beneath my chin, he tipped my head back. “Everything you’ve been denied up until now, I intend to give you. In return, you will give yourself to me. My appetite is both salacious and insatiable, but you will feed it to the point of gluttony. And as such, I will not share you with anyone. Ever.”

Words so possessive and unreasonable should’ve sent a shudder of fear through me, but after the visuals, after witnessing the purity of his love, my heart felt full. Could’ve been that I was sick. After all, who agreed to give themselves entirely to a man who wasn’t even human? “You are the jealous type, then.”

“Jealousy is a petty human emotion, Miss Ravenshaw. What I am is far more threatening.”

“And is this one of those one-way streets, where I’m faithful, but you’re permitted to bounce around?”

“I’d be wasting my time with any other, now that I know you exist.”

I smirked at that, my head still not entirely wrapped around the idea that someone could love another so much. “How is it possible for a man to be so unreasonably reasonable?”

Ignoring the question, he tilted my chin up and kissed me. “Are you finished soaking in this bath?”

“Considering I’ve turned to a prune, yes.”

“Good. Because I intend to unreasonably fuck you in a proper bed.”

“You’ll never earn redemption if you keep breaking the rules, Mister Van Croix.”

“I would choose an eternity of damnation before ever giving up the opportunity to be buried between your thighs.”

I pressed my lips together to hide a coy smile. “As flattering as that may be, it isn’t very ambitious.”

“No, it’s not. But I believe in the journey, and the path to ambition is rarely as thrilling as the one which leads to perdition.”

55

Farryn

Large flakes of snow drifted aimlessly from the sky. I held out a hand to catch one in my palm. Once it hit my warm skin, the snowflake melted. “Strange, isn’t it? How easily something so beautiful can be destroyed.”

Van Croix glanced back at me, my other hand clutched in his, as he led me into the woods. “If you let it dry on your hand, it becomes a part of you. And, therefore, lives on in you.”

“I never thought about it that way.” I didn’t bother to wipe the tiny puddle from my hand, and instead, held it out to the frigid, cold air to absorb into my skin. “Absolutely brilliant.”

“I try.”

The past three days, we had spent morning, noon, and night locked inside his bedroom. The only time we weren’t having sex was while sleeping, bathing, and eating. And when he’d had the sheets on his bed changed, although he’d pulled me into a dark corner of the hallway and pinned me to the wall then, as well.

“So, what is it you wanted to show me out in the freezing cold, when I could be lying in a nice, warm bed?” Though, I had to admit, after three days in the same room, the fresh air was a welcomed change.

“I suppose you’ll just have to trust that I have your best interest in mind.”

I narrowed my eyes on him. “Do you, though? I mean, you did take me to the top of a bell tower in a lightning storm.”

“And as I recall, you enjoyed yourself.”

“Touché.” Perhaps it was post-coital bliss, or some strange sex phenomena, but since that first night, something had bloomed inside of me. A sense of invigoration. Energy. My skin had freaking glowed earlier, when I’d looked at myself in the mirror. I felt healthy and rejuvenated.

We reached a small clearing where the trees didn’t grow for some reason. Instead, they created a perfect circle smack in the center of the woods. The narrow trunks of tall trees formed a wall, encasing us inside, and on the ground, dozens of black birds gathered together.

Jericho released my hand and held out an arm, where one of the black birds flew to perch. He flicked his fingers at me. “Your locket.”

Frowning, I unlatched the locket from my neck and handed it to him with a small bit of reluctance. He flipped it open to show the picture of my father and held it up to the bird, who tipped his head, as if studying it. The bird cawed and flapped its wings, and I sat watching the exchange in complete confusion.