“Okay, okay. I put it in the box, carried it downstairs, and placed it on the pile. You were right behind me. Then I took it to where Esme was just standing. And then we saw Caldwell and Isaac and…”
“And?”
Like a key turning the lock on my memories, the news broadcasts a few months ago flashed in my mind. The Church of the Black Sun had been making the rounds, preaching about a book and teachings that could unlock everything.
“Oh my god…I think they stole the book.”
To say I’d been angry at Caldwell after my grandmother died was an understatement. I was furious. Rage had filled my body in a way that made my hands tremble and my eyes burn. I’d always known Caldwell was a cold, callous man. But that didn’t stop his lack of empathy hitting me like a fifty-tonne truck. He’d expected me to fail. A part of me knew he wanted me to as well. I think he got off on the idea of seeing me drowning in my own grief and accepting my own defeat like the subservient little failure I was meant to be.
I’d taken all those feelings and let them fuel something inside of me. As much as I’d told myself his insults didn’t matter and that I had nothing to prove, I had. I used Thallor to get an edge on my essay that would have been impossible otherwise. I’d spoken about things you didn’t learn in textbooks and quoted theories that hadn’t once been mentioned in his lectures.
Everything, slowly but surely, began to click into place. One puzzle piece after another to create an image so harrowing I could barely keep my knees from bucking underneath me. I let out a string of curse words, mostly directed at myself for having to prove anything to Caldwell. After my presentation, he seemed impressed—as much as a man like Caldwell could, anyway. But he’d been the only other person to take out that book from the library after all. And it was all starting to make sense. He hadn’t been interested in my essay at all. He'd been interested in what was written between the lines. The clandestine bits of insight that I had subconsciously woven into the pages.
My pulse quickened and I almost doubled over with thethoughts that barrelled into my head.They can't summon anyone. It's fine. It's fine. It's fine, right?
“They can't do anything with the book, right? You're tethered to me whilst I still have a wish to make?”
For the first time in all the months of knowing him, Thallor paled. The golden undertones of his skin and the freckles disappeared in place of a stark white that contrasted the colour of his eyes and his hair. I wasn't sure what it was. Fear. Pain. And seemingly every other emotion in between.
“Thallor?” I asked him quietly.No. No. Please don't take him away from me.
“No, they can’t summon me.”Thank God.“But they can summon my brother.”Brother?
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“What do you mean, demon?” Esme laughed, looking between the two of us as she sat on the sofa–the one currently threatening to swallow her whole. She tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear before letting out a nervous laugh. “Is that a sex thing?”
In any other situation, I probably would have crumpled in on myself, under the weight of that comment. It would have left me feeling nervous, shy, and embarrassed. And my body would have erupted in a bright shade of red, betraying the potency of my emotions. But I just stared at her before looking over at Thallor.
“Show her,” I said. My mind raced as a flurry of feelings coursed through my body. This is the last thing I wanted to do. But time was limited, and there was just no other alternative.
“Show me what…” Esme gave me a quizzical look, her eyes darting between us again. ‘Look, if this is a sex thing, I really am flattered, you’re both super hot, but?—”
There had only been one other time since I'd met Thallor where he'd reverted to his natural form. Yes, there had beentimes in the midst of anger or jealousy or frustration where his arms had grown ashen and claws protruded from his fingers. But this wasn't like that. The first time I'd seen it, I'd been frightened, but now I watched in quiet awe as his body started to convulse. He stood slowly, moving in languid motion that had my breath hitching in my throat. I kept Esme’s hand firmly gripped in mine as I turned toward her.
“Don’t be afraid,” I said quietly, seeing her smile falter.
“What? What the fuck is—” Esme stumbled over her words before a shocked whimper escaped her. Thallor’s body continued to morph as wisps of dark ink coiled up the side of his arm. He was already tall and imposing, but his body distorted further until his muscles were pulled taut across his now looming frame. Black horns jutting from either side of his head before ending at sharp points.
I was captivated and enthralled by his strength, and simply transfixed by his undeniable beauty. Yes, he was terrifying. Like a nightmare come to life. But I couldn't look away from him. From what wasmine. His deep red eyes locked onto me with a burning intensity. And all I saw was possessiveness. Affection. Love laced behind his gaze. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and left me hot and breathless. He wasdevilish.Earth-shattering. He was everything.
In the age-old question of fight or flight? Esme was classic freeze. She looked up at Thallor with petrified eyes. However, I felt about him, Esme did not seem to share my sentiment. She sat beside me, trembling with such vigour that I could feel the sofa cushions shift behind us. Her grip on my hand was crushing and unyielding as she stared up at him; paralysed in place, and so rooted to the sofa, I was sure she might never move again.
I had to squeeze her hand multiple times to get her to take a breath in the fear that she might actually pass out. She shifted, slowly letting her head turn toward me with minute movementsas though not wanting to let Thallor know she was there. “Quincey,” her sob was quiet. Choked. Tears began to streak down her cheeks. For a moment, the weight of the guilt crushed me. Hurting her was unbearable. Pushing her to this place and trapping her in a cage of her own fear was not something I ever wanted to do. I loved Esme, but the look on her face, after everything that had happened with Isaac, felt overwhelming. Felt unfair.
But it was the only way to make her understand.
“It’s okay,” I assured her, my voice soft but firm. “You’re okay. You know I’ll never let anything happen to you. He won’t hurt us.”
I turned and nodded to Thallor, silently motioning him to return to his human form. Not even a moment later, his fiery red hair and freckles had returned. He sat down on the sofa opposite us, looking a little sheepish with his hand scratching at the back of his head. I turned back to Esme, who hadn't taken her eyes off me. She continued to tremble as I squeezed her hand again.
A few hours, a lot of explaining, and an entire bottle of wine later, Esme had finally started to calm down. For the most part, her posture had relaxed, and she was breathing at a normal cadence again. There was still a flicker of caution in her eyes whenever she looked in Thallor’s direction–like she was waiting for him to turn us both to ash or bite off our heads. But considering how the evening had started, I counted that as progress.
We explained everything to her. The ritual. The world he came from. The why and the how and the who. She asked questions. She asked a lot of questions. Some warranted. Some ridiculous. And some wildly inappropriate questions about the logistics of our bedroom activities that had Thallor spitting out his drink. She genuinely wanted to know whether tail placement during sex was a thing that happened or whether that was justsomething to be read about in one of her spicy romantasy books.
Whether it was the wine, the shock had worn off, or the way Thallor looked at me as if I was the most incredible thing in the world, Esme seemed to come to terms with the current situation. That this was real. Thathewas real.
Thallor looked over the rim of his refilled wine and smiled, holding up his glass in a toast. “Well, Esme, at least you didn’t run away.”
