But instead, he was lying on her roof, staring up at a night sky in which the moon and stars were obscured by dark clouds and the city’s artificial glow. Hiding in the one place within the tether’s range to which she could not follow him.
An ageless nocturnus, hiding from a mortal.
That’s what this was, no matter how adamantly he insisted otherwise. Not avoidance, not claiming personal space. Just simple cowardice. Because being near Ember made it too difficult for Nyte to do what was necessary. Too difficult to break this damnable attachment.
He lay down flat, closed his eyes, and laced his fingerstogether, resting his hands on his belly. For what must’ve been the thousandth time, he recalled their exchange from a week ago.
I’m not giving up on you, Nyte.
And she hadn’t. She’d remained kind, considerate, and affectionate, had continued speaking to him, smiling at him, and flirting with him at every opportunity. And he’d given her nothing in return.
This new distance between them mirrored the physical distance he’d sought tonight. A chasm had opened between them, a wide, yawning maw so deep and dark that it may as well have been bottomless. Every day, every moment, Ember strove to bridge that gap.
Her efforts had been fruitless because of Nyte. That chasm existed because of him, and he could not let it be crossed.
All the guilt and loneliness bristling inside him were his own fucking fault.
For seven days, he and Ember hadn’t touched one another. Not even the lightest brush of fingertips. Nyte had made sure of it. He’d maintained space between them, had kept on the opposite side of the shop from her while she worked, and had pushed the tether’s limits in her home, staying in different rooms. He hadn’t eaten dinner or watched movies with her, and he’d walked behind her whenever they went out.
And he missed everything he was avoiding. Missed all those moments of connection and togetherness. Missed…her.
His skin thrummed with the desire to feel her, and that sensation only intensified with each inch of space between them. He was starved for her touch, craved the feel of her hands on him, of her lips against his own. Craved to be inside his witch.
Whenever he heard the shower turn on behind the closed bathroom door, he had to fightan overbearing ache low in his belly and turn all his willpower toward not joining Ember, toward not envisioning her naked body with water coursing over her smooth, pale skin. Even seeing her clothed was often too much. The way her garments hugged and accentuated her curves, the way her body moved, the way her hair framed her face, that luster in her eyes…it was all maddening.
Temptation stood in his path no matter which way he turned.
Baring his fangs, he lowered a hand to his groin, clamping it down to deter his cock from coalescing. How could his pelvis be throbbing when he had no veins, no blood, when he had a heart that did not beat?
Nights had proven the most difficult periods to weather. Seeing her lying in bed, serene and vulnerable, awoke an instinct in him to lie beside her, wrap her in his arms, wings, and tail, and shelter her through the darkness. And that instinct became overwhelming as the long, quiet nights wore on.
Despite what had occurred between Nyte and Ember and this prolonged aftermath, he’d had no choice but to accompany her while she worked and ran errands. He’d lapsed back into the security of keeping himself invisible to other humans, but it was only a small source of comfort.
Since he’d been quieter and more standoffish, she’d found a way to fill the silence. They’d twice gone to the library. Seeing so many books in one place, not as part of a wealthy mortal’s private collection but available freely to the public, had been astounding.
Ember had borrowed numerous books concerning magic, witchcraft, spirituality, and demons, and had spent hours combing through them and researching corresponding subjects on her computer.
That was what she was doing right now—sitting on her bedwith a stack of books beside her and the laptop on her thighs, reading.
While he brooded on the roof.
Opening his eyes, Nyte sat up, bent his legs, and rested his arms on his knees. His tail thumped on the shingles behind him in a slow but restless rhythm.
He’d been determined to find Ember’s boundless curiosity irritating, but he’d succeeded only in finding it endearing. She was actively seeking knowledge about her world, his world, and herself. Watching her sift through so much rubbish to unearth the scraps of truth buried within had only strengthened his admiration for her.
She was intelligent and adaptable, keeping a firm grip on her sense of self despite learning that so much of what she’d known had either been incomplete or incorrect.
If only you could follow her example, you damned fool.
He clenched his fists. He couldn’t help but think of Sarnessa. The succubus had been unshakably self-assured, keenly aware of every asset at her disposal and exactly how to apply those tools. A sultry, seductive exterior hiding a cold, calculating core; feigned interest and intimacy masking ravenous selfishness. Sarnessa was an incarnation of the extreme beauty and cruelty in an uncaring, unjust universe.
She’d temporarily curtailed her cruelty to achieve her aim—gorging herself on Nyte’s lifeforce. The only kindness she had shown him had been self-serving…and he’d only thought of it as kindness because he hadn’t known better.
Ember was nothing like that. She had wants, of course she did, but she’d never treated them as more important than Nyte’s. Though the summoning hadn’t been intentional, she could’ve taken advantage. Could’ve attempted some pact with him to her own benefit, as so many humans had with othersupernatural entities.
But she hadn’t. She’d instead welcomed him into her home, treated him with caring and respect, had talked and joked and laughed with him. Ember made him feel not just wanted, but…worthy.
You’re seriously going to give up on love because of some nasty succubus who wasn’t worthy of your heart?
