It was one thing to decide she didn’t want to kill him anymore. It was another to feel … this. He was a demon, for fuck’s sake. An evil demon from Hell who practiced necromancy and commanded an army of human souls. She just wasn’t that stupid. Shewasn’t.
The scene replayed in her mind again anyway.
The way he’d pinned her so fast, she’d barely seen him move … His weight above her, his piercing stare, his pure-white hair falling forward, those proud horns arcing up above his head …
And then he’d gotten hard. She’d felt him grow thick and long against her. Her thighs clenched together at the memory.
And then he’d … freaked out.
What was that about? She’d always assumed demons were horny perverts who would fuck anything. But Murmur had never once displayed sexual interest in her before tonight. And the shock in his eyes told her he hadn’t expected his reaction either.
Had he never had an erection before? No, that would be ridiculous. He was a god-knew-how-old immortal. But maybe it had been a long time?
She’d compared him to a zombie multiple times. The few times he’d touched her, his hands felt like pure ice. Was it possible the necromancy he practiced had seeped into his body and changed him?
Was he dead, in a sense?
Except … nothing about him felt dead tonight. In fact, she very clearly remembered feeling heat pouring off him as he loomed over her.
Keep struggling. I enjoy it.
She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes hard enough that she saw stars. That should not be a turn-on. It was not hot. He was depraved and liked the sight of someone weaker than him struggling to escape. That was sick and twisted. Not hot.
Sick and twisted. Not hot.She repeated it like a mantra, as if hoping she could rewire her brain.
Forcing her mind off horny thoughts, she remembered what had happened before she’d ended up in his bed. Just thinking of the piercing scream she’d heard sent a chill down her spine.
She was shocked to learn he was a seer, but it made so many things about his eccentric personality make sense. Who wouldn’t be driven half mad by reliving their future violent death every time they slept?
A pang of sympathy shot through her. She’d read about blood-born witches with foresight gifts who had gone mad trying to interpret visions of the future. Murmur was unfathomably old, and he said he’d been having visions for as long as he could remember. Honestly, she was amazed he could still function at all.
That was what his spell was about. It made so much sense now. He was having visions of his own death, and whatever he was trying to achieve with that spell would prevent it.
More idiotic sympathy welled. God, could she get any stupider?
If she died down here, she would probably deserve it.
THEGRANDSCHEME
WHENSUYIN ROLLED OUT OF BED AFTER A RESTLESSsleep, the sky was still dark, thanks to the painfully long nights in Hell. She knew she usually went to bed after twelve hours or so, but other than that, she had no way of tracking the passage of time.
She tried not to think about how worried everyone back home would be. She’d missed all her shifts at Le Repaire, and she was pretty sure she’d missed a coven meeting by now too. She wasn’t a big social butterfly, but she also had some non-witchy friends who would be wondering why she wasn’t answering their calls.
There wasn’t anything she could do about it except ensure that Murmur’s spell was successful. The sooner he accomplished whatever he was trying to do, the sooner she could go home.
After washing up, she dressed in black leggings and a hoodie and then zipped up her boots. She ate the last of her box of granola bars as she climbed the stairs, making a mental note to ask Murmur to get her some more food.
She entered the top floor but hesitated outside the library. She wasn’t sure what to expect after what had happened last night. She still wasn’t entirely sure whathadhappened last night.
It felt like everything had shifted between them, but she didn’t know how Murmur was going to play it. Would he explain why he’d freaked and kicked her out of his room? Or would he just act like it had never happened? And which option would she prefer?
Probably the latter, she decided. Clinging to denial suited her just fine.
She couldn’t avoid confrontation forever, so she took a breath and pushed open the door. Unsurprisingly, Murmur was there, crouched at the edge of the big sigil, repainting the lines with what had to be blood. If she’d needed a reminder of what he was, that was a pretty solid one.
The fireplace and lanterns had been lit, and the room was full of comfortable warmth and light. Murmur had braided his hair today, and the thick white rope lay down the middle of his back. His tail curled around his feet, the end flicking like a cat.
Just the sight of him made her stomach clench.
