“He laid a hand on you when he shouldn’t have. He spoke to you in ways that make me regret taking his soul so peacefully.” The lust is gone from his tone. I’ve never heard him sound so serious. “Given the option again, I would make him scream before I took his soul. The sound would be nothing compared to the noises you will make when I’m inside you.”
I squirm under his hands to try and hide the way my traitorous body reacts to such violent words.
Letum reaches for my neck to bring me down to his eye level. My eyes snap to his hands, drinking in the way the muscles in his forearm twitch with each movement. The smoke on his skin doesn't recoil like I thought it would, continuing to dance across his body. I was too distracted last time to pay attention to how the smoke reacts to me.
His fingers tighten around my throat as if he knows that I’ve been thinking about what they’d look like on me, and he wants to make my wish a reality.
“You’re still wearing my necklace.” His voice is laced with carnality and possession, and I can’t help but lean forward to increase the pressure. Letum rises just enough to pull my bottom lip between his teeth, and a needy whimper leaves me. “I’m going to mark your body and your soul.”
I hesitate. “Are you—Are going to take my soul?” Does he hear how hopeful I am? Will he finally accept my offering?
“I already have it.” There’s no uncertainty in his voice, and I’m not even sure how that might be the case. If there is some way beyond my mortal comprehension where he does, in fact, have my soul, that it’s possible for him to have taken it and left me alive; I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually does.
Despite the fear that he stirs in me, I have no qualms about letting him take my soul just for himself. Everything about it feels right, like every second of my life has led me to this moment, to him, to us.
“But I want to die.” For the first time since the accident, I am uncertain that it’s actually what I want. Because what I actually want is to be anywhere with the man that has kept me alive for the past year and a half.
He caresses my cheek. “Even death will not keep you from me, my night monster.”
“There’s nothing I can offer you.” I don’t know why I’m trying to convince him to stop liking me when I know that it would truly kill me if he did stop.
He rises to his feet from the side of the bed, then occupies the space next to me and pulls me onto his lap as if I were weightless. “You are enough, Lilith.”
I drop my attention to my hand, picking the skin on the side of my nail. “You don’t know anything about me.”
His hand covers my own, stopping me from sabotaging myself further.
“Oh, my love,” he mutters against my forehead before planting a tender kiss. “I know your hopes and your dreams better than I know myself. I have memorized how the left side of your lips twitches right before you smile. How your eyebrows pinch together and you chew the inside of your cheek while you think. Oh, my sad flower, the sound of your laugh is imprinted into my memory.” He starts running his hands through my hair. “I know that your last thought before you sleep is what you might find next to you when you wake up. You pretend to hate it, but you secretly like working at the cafe because you love being surrounded by life. The wounds you wear run deeper than your scars from that night. The guilt you harbor over being the one to live.”
I can feel him looking down on me, but I can’t bring myself to look up. He has been watching me for a year and a half, of course he knows.
“I know nothing about you.” He apparently knows so much about me but I know practically nothing about him.
He pulls me closer and tucks my head between his collar and jaw. “You know everything about me, my love. You just keep it locked away.”
“I don’t,” I object. “I don’t know your favorite season, what type of music you like, what time of day you prefer, what you actually look like, your hobby, your favorite thing to eat.” Does Death need to eat? Sleep? How does he have all this time to follow me around if he needs to collect souls—or whatever he does?
Letum’s arms disappear from me, and the chill from the absence of his touch strikes me to my core. He deposits me back on the edge of the bed. I’m about to stand to look at him, just so he knows that even though he has me on his hook, I’m still not just going to stay there, but he wraps his arms around my waist before I can and pulls me up the bed with him.
He molds our bodies together as if we have done this a thousand times. He knows just how perfectly we fit together. His hard length presses against my ass, and it takes more strength than I care to admit not to grind my hips.
“Autumn. Classical. Right before the sun rises. You, and you.” My core tightens when he starts skimming the tips of his fingers across my stomach.
A blush heats my cheeks. I should have guessed his favorite season would be autumn, after all it’s the time when life seeps away from nature. “You didn’t say what you look like.”
His chest vibrates against my back with his warm chuckle and he kisses the side of my neck. It could be my mind hearing what it wants, but he almost sounds proud of me for noticing. “I will answer any question that you ask. But that, you will need to discover for yourself.”
Taking it as an invitation, I unwind our tangled legs and force our bodies apart. Will his cheekbones be high or low or right in the middle? Is his jaw as sharp as his body, or will there be an almost boyish look to him?
Slowly, I reach for his hood, as if any sudden movements might scare him away. He brings my hand to his lips before I even touch the soft material, and grazes his lips along my knuckles and tsks. “You can see once you open your eyes.”
Seeds of frustration plant their roots and blossom. “They’re open,” I snap. I didn’t stand up for myself when Evan gaslit me, yet I’m inches away from biting the hand that has been keeping me above water.
“Not yet, my love, but they will be soon.”
I almost push away from his hold. What the hell is that supposed to mean? He keeps saying ‘soon’. I truly don’t believe he’s ever lied to me, though the non-answers are starting to feel so much worse. This is probably another thing that he wants me to do for myself, just as he has been coaxing me to voice my needs and wants.
Is it because this is basically a dream? Or is he just hiding from me? Or is he as insecure as I am?
I try escaping his hold on my wrist, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, my free hand travels up his stomach and on top of where his heart should be. Except nothing beats beneath my hand.
“Letum.” His name feels so good wrapped around my tongue. Does he think so too? “I don’t care what you look like. If you’re scarred or truly faceless.”
He hums, sending ripples up my arms and to my heavily beating heart. “And what is it that you care about, my dark love?”
You.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say it, but I refuse to let the one syllable out. Not when he’s still hiding so much from me. So I change the topic.
“What happens to souls when they die?”
I think I feel him smile. “I walk them to the gates of the afterlife, and what happens after is the soul’s choosing.” He nips my finger. “If they believe in heaven and hell, then that is the path the soul will follow. If they believe in nothingness, then eternal slumber awaits. If they believe in reincarnation then you will find them again on this earth, in this lifetime, or the next.”