“Why would I want to?”
The blade warms in my fingertips.
A thrill chases up my spine when I press the blade to her flesh, and that makes me hesitate.
There’s a low growl coming from somewhere inside my mind.
It feels—hungry. Desperately, desperately hungry.
“Please,” Billy whispers. “Please!”
I pierce the corner of the blade into her skin and drag it down her wrist. I expect resistance, but it’s like shearing through smooth clay.
She lets out a sharp gasp, but she doesn’t pull away.
Doesn’t scream.
Doesn’t start crying and panicking.
She starts humming again.
Her blood pours out in a rush. It swirls in the milky bathwater, its coppery scent mixing with the lavender, almost strong enough to wipe out the mildew.
“This one too,” she whispers, stretching out her other arm for me.
I cut again, trying to ignore the way my body—especially my dick—pulses in rhythm with my heart.
This time, she doesn’t even gasp as she watches the blood sluice down her wrist with those sad green eyes of hers.
“Are you scared?”
A tear races down her cheek, her lips compressing. “A-A little,” she whimpers.
“Do you want to stop?”
“No—”
But I’m already standing, ready to fetch something to wrap the cuts, ready to keep her blood inside her.
She grabs my pant leg, tugging. “No! Please, Bash! I can’t do this alone!”
Blood traces sinuous lines down her pale arm as she stares up at me.
I kick off my shoes and climb into the tub behind her, still fully clothed, the water instantly soaking through my pants.
She lets out a relieved sigh, sinking back against me. She’s somehow heavier than any time I carried her, yet the pressure of her body against mine is…euphoric.
I wrap my arms around her, my hands gliding down the back of her arms. I grab her hands and twist them so I can see the cuts I made along her wrists.
Her blood flows faster now—a thin, intermittent stream trickling into the bath. The water turns pink, then red. Sybil’s humming is getting softer, her body growing heavier against mine. She rolls her head onto my shoulder and lets out another sigh.
I can feel her heart beating against my chest.
Too fast. Too faint.
Like a baby bird that knows it’s dying.
“Light shows what eyes shouldn’t see,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her damp hair.
