Page 37 of Eternal Devotion

I’d heard from Cristofer that a small percentage of humans felt the intrusion but couldn’t identify its cause, often mistaking it for something environmental. Based on Ensley’s sudden attentiveness and the way he scanned the room as though trying to figure out what he was feeling, I suspected he was one of those rare cases.

He huffed an embarrassed laugh and refocused on me as though unsure why we’d stopped. During his distraction, I’d checked the mark on my chest and deemed it minor enough that it wouldn’t draw attention.

“It’s getting late.” I put forth the suggestion in the hope that he would leave. Guilt and regret, two devilish fiends, sat heavy on my shoulders.

Ensley wet his lips and nodded. I read the disappointment in his eyes and suspected he thought himself responsible for whatever happened. He fit his shirt over his head and tugged it in place. I did the same, not bothering to secure the buttons, and followed him to the front door, where he paused and faced me.

His uncertainty filled me with remorse. If only I could explain. If only I could exist as he existed. If only, if only, if only.

I cradled his cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his lips so he wouldn’t go home and worry over things he couldn’t quite figure out.

He sighed against my mouth, and because I had no respect for my sanity, I grazed my teeth over his bottom lip, toying with urges I refused to satisfy. My desire for him thrummed like a heartbeat under my skin.

Ensley made a noise in the back of his throat, and before I could pull back, he deepened the kiss.

We didn’t come apart for a full minute, and I was ready to drag him back into the parlor and try again. But no. Danger lay in that direction.

I broke from his mouth, lingering close enough that his breath feathered my lips. “I enjoyed tonight.”

“Me too. Are we still on for tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“What time do you want to head out? The majority of places are open at nine or ten.”

“How about the afternoon?” If I could avoid stressing over a meal I couldn’t eat and secure a few hours of rest, it would help me endure the suffering.

“Let’s aim for two. I’ll text you.”

I stood on the threshold as Ensley headed to his Jeep. The crunch of his tires following the gravel drive sounded long after his headlights vanished around the bend in the trees. At the highway, the whine of the engine suggested an increase in speed.

Then, I was alone with the sounds of night in a forest.

Before retreating inside, I glanced at the ground beyond the door where the light from inside spilled in an unbroken luminescent puddle on the stoop, reminding me I was not part of Ensley’s world.

9

Ensley

I drove home in a haze, unable to quite piece together the night. It carried a dreamlike quality, lacking fluidity. Snapshot moments that connected but didn’t. I had the oddest sensation that I’d fucked things up, but our goodbye kiss seemed to contradict that conclusion.

Mordecai had agreed to spend Saturday with me. If things had gone poorly, we wouldn’t have another date planned, or so I assumed.

I parked in my designated spot behind the comic book store and rounded the building to the front entrance. Before heading upstairs, the wash of streetlight painting the sidewalk stole my attention. I stood under its glow, my shadow stretching disproportionately long and climbing the brick storefront, making me look fifteen feet tall and monstrous.

When I moved my fingers, the shadow puppet copied.

A strange sense of déjà vu tried to surface. Frowning, I did all I could to tug it forward, but the harder I focused, the farther away it got. No, not déjà vu. What was it?

I waved my arm and kicked a foot, trying to nudge the thought forward. My shadow mirrored the action. It was the oddest thing, but I could have sworn I’d forgotten something important. The lingering memory, whatever it was, felt recent.

For ten minutes, I stood on the sidewalk under the streetlight, fighting to remember, but the void persisted. Whatever I’d forgotten fluttered anxiously behind my ribs. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew it was imperative that I remember.

Eventually, admitting defeat, I headed upstairs. The hour was late, and I’d had a few drinks, albeit hours ago and not enough to give me a buzz. Perhaps in the morning the absent thought would come to me.

I performed my usual bedtime routine. As I stood over the sink, brushing my teeth and examining my face in the mirror, as one does when he meets someone new and needs to see their face through someone else’s eyes, the strange sensation returned.

With the toothbrush dangling from my foamy mouth, I stood perfectly still and stared at my reflection, fearing any movement might chase it away.