“It’s safe,” Ember said.
Safe? So long as this inferno of lust rages inside me, neither of us is safe.
Seemingly unaware of his turmoil, Ember stepped past him to the vanity. She sat on the stool and flicked a switch. The lights surrounding the mirror flared to life, bright enough that he had to briefly slit his eyes and turn away.
“So light doesn’t hurt you, but you’re sensitive to it?” she asked.
“I simply need a moment to adjust. A bit of warning would’ve been appreciated.”
“I’ll be sure to do that next time.” She met his gaze within the mirror before opening one of the drawers and removing a few items, setting them atop the vanity. “How old are you?”
“How old is the night?” Nyte strode to her bed and sat down on its edge, looking her over. She’d put on a black lace dress with a low neckline. The inner skirt was shorter, revealing her legs beneath the long, sheer, lace-embroidered outer layer. Though he’d just seen what lay beneath her clothing, the way the fabric hugged her body, the way it accentuated some of her curves while hiding others, was as tantalizing as her naked form.
No one, especially not a mortal, had any right to be so beautiful.
“So what are you saying? That you’re billions of years old?” Ember asked with not a little bit of disbelief.
“I have existed since time immemorial. But awareness came much later, along with this form.”
“Wow. You’reoldold.”
“By your reckoning, yes. But time flows differently for immortal beings.”
“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around this not being a dream.” She lifted one of the bottles, opened it, and beganapplying the skin-colored cream inside to her face with a tiny pink sponge. “What did you mean when you said your awareness and form came later?”
He snatched up a pillow, taking it between both hands. One of her long, silver hairs lay upon it. “It is not something easily explained. I coalesced from the night. I am a manifestation of it. For a long, long while, I was…a force. An entity. Formless power, drifting through the darkness. Feeding on fear. Gradually, that fear shaped me, and as I became aware of myself, so too did this form come into being. A mirror held to humankind’s fear of the dark and the unknown.”
She met his gaze in the mirror with a grin as she set down the bottle and sponge. “You’re not scary looking to me.”
“You’ve made that abundantly clear, witch.”
Chuckling, she picked up another item along with a small, soft brush and applied powder to her skin. “I was never scared of the dark. I actually…find comfort in it. I grew up on a farm, and when I was little and couldn’t sleep at night, I’d sneak outside and listen to the crickets chirping while I stared up at the stars. It was peaceful.”
“There is a certain comfort to be found in the night’s music. Those songs the sun will never hear, whispered beneath moon and stars…” Nyte plucked the hair off the pillow, rubbing it between his fingers. He felt a sudden urge to stroke her silken strands, to tuck them behind her ears, to feel their ends tease his skin. Barely holding back a growl, he released the hair, letting it fall away, and returned his gaze to the female who was the focus of these unwelcome desires.
Ember was now coloring her eyelids.
“Why are you painting your face?” he asked.
She paused, drawing the thin brush away to look at it, then at her reflection, before finally turning herface toward him. “My makeup?”
“Yes. Why apply that paint—that makeup—to your face? It’s unnecessary.”
Her lips curled into a wide smile. “Are you saying I’m pretty, Nyte?”
His eyebrows fell. “You are…not unappealing.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I’m assuming you don’t freely give out compliments, so I’ll take that as one.” Ember turned back to the mirror and moved the brush back to her eyelid, adding a touch of purple to the black she’d already applied. “I just like wearing it. It’s a way to express myself.”
The contrast between the darker colors blended on her eyelids and the light blue of her irises made her eyes ethereal and mesmerizing. To keep from staring into them, from losing himself in them, Nyte dropped his gaze to the pillow. Her fragrance was everywhere in this room, but here on the bed, it was strongest of all.
This was where she slept. Where she was at her most serene, her most vulnerable, where the covers caressed her skin, where she dreamed.
Something sparked within him. Another impulse, this one too quick, too powerful, to deny. Nyte raised the pillow to his face and inhaled deeply. Ember’s sweet scent flooded his nose, washing over him to haze his mind.
“Are there others like you?” Ember asked.
Her question pierced that haze; only then did he realize what he’d done, and that his tail was thumping atop the bed.
