“Show me,” I whispered, the words scraping my throat raw. “Show me where the Noctyss flower is.”
The shadows purred, triumphant, their laughter soft and venom-sweet.
“Payment must be made. Nothing comes freely. Feed us, and we will answer.”
My blood went cold. “Payment?”
“Yes.”
Their chorus deepened, vibrating through my ribs.
“Pain. Desire. Agony. Fear. We feast on all of it. Give us something, and we will show you.”
My stomach twisted. “On who?”
“Amara is right there.”
The words slid through me like a blade of ice.
She was moving quickly, searching—pulling open drawers, pushing through silks, her face set with determination even as her hands shook.
The shadows’ voices grew louder, closer, whispering directly into my ear, curling through my thoughts like smoke.
“Use her as you kissed her. As you touched her. Feed us through her pain, through her fear, through her desire. Give us something, Lazarus—and we will give you everything.”
Bile scorched my throat. I stumbled backward, the tome trembling in my hands. The marks beneath my skin pulsed violently, alive.
“Feed us,”they hissed, a hundred mouths speaking as one. “Feed us, and the world will open to you.”
I shook my head, gripping the book so tightly my nails split against the leather. Blood smeared across its surface, dark against darker.
“No…” I rasped. “Not her. Never her.”
Their laughter came—low, merciless, rippling through the chamber like the rattle of a thousand throats.
“You will. You must. Or you will have nothing.”
My pulse hammered. The whispers pressed closer, swelling until my skull felt ready to crack. The noise wasn’t just in my head anymore; it was in my blood, in my breath, in the rhythm of my heart.
Amara turned.
Her eyes found mine, and for a moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist. The sight of her—alive, breathing, trembling beside me—shattered what was left of my restraint.
Before I could think, before I could stop myself, I crossed the space between us. My hands seized her shoulders, dragging her sharply against me. She gasped—a startled sound, half-breath, half-prayer—but I crushed my mouth to hers before she could speak it.
Her lips trembled beneath mine, then parted. The first breath we shared was desperate, and shuddering. The shadows inside me reared up, howling in pleasure.
My skin lit from within. The tattoos pulsed, black fire coiling beneath the surface, crawling along my arms in living spirals. Each mark glowed, serpents waking from slumber, writhing to life.
The shadows hissed with delight, their voices a chorus of ecstasy in my skull. They fed greedily, gorging themselves on the heat of her mouth, the frantic rhythm of her pulse, the fragile human thrum of her life pressed into mine.
And gods forgive me?—
I let them.
I felt their hunger slither through me, a thousand dark tongues drinking from the space between her heartbeat and mine. The air around us shimmered as the room seemed to close in, mirrors flickering with warped reflections of us—shapes entwined, halos of black flame licking across our skin.
Amara didn’t see it.
