Did that ungrateful prick just hang up on me? The nerve.
With a few hours to kill, I decide to check on Aurora, even though she asked me to stay away.
To be honest, I haven’t spent all my time locked in the house. I’ve spent plenty of time with her. She just isn’t aware that I’m there. I don’t go near her, and I have not entered her home again.
A piece of me wants to bash my head against the nearest tree until my brains splatter on the ground. Or tear open my own chest and rip my heart out, just to see if it’s still black inside.
There is obviously something quite wrong with both my mind and my heart. Those two organs, which until now have allowed me to do whatever the fuck I want, are malfunctioning.
My shadows curl around my shoulders. They know I’m falling apart. I don’t need the reminder.
One of them strokes the pulse in my throat, checking my vitals. I slap it away, scowling.
Fantastic. So not only are my shadows now suddenly sentient, they’re also physicians-in-training.
Everything feels sharp and wrong. And still, all I can think about is her.
I don’t want Aurora to fear me or be angry with me. But I must admit, her rage at the bookshop, although humbling, made me want her even more.
The bloody ovaries on that woman.
It made me want to kneel.
Me? Kneel?! Ha!
Wait. Fuck.
Do you see what I have to deal with? Do you see why I can’t think clearly? I’m supposed to be in control. That’s all I’ve ever fucking been.
And yet—the minute I think about submitting to her, rolling over for her, allowing her to ride my cock when I’ve allowed no one that kind of power over me, I need to find a place to jerk off.
Christ, she might as well keep my balls in a jar on her mantle right next to those fucking anime men she fawns over.
My shadows twitch, one of them dragging across my thigh in agreement.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
I scowl, my jaw clenching hard enough to ache. “And what the fuck is going on with you?”
Billions of years without a twitch unless I willed it. Now they’re stroking my throat, getting handsy with my leg, and acting like I’m not the one in control.
“You little shits are brave, I’ll give you that,” I mutter.
But for once, I don’t lash out. Not at them. Never at her.
So, instead of taking what is obviously mine, I watch her from a distance with the sole intention of keeping her safe. The shadows tighten around my wrist, and for a moment, they pulse with dark approval.
Something at the back of my brain screams at me to protect her at all costs. Like I’m some kind of white fucking knight. I’m not. I’m a blackened, damaged monster who devours little humans like her. The two halves of me—devotion and destruction—won’t stop tearing each other apart.
And apparently, my own shadows have picked a side.
Around mid-morning, Thane calls, and I meet him at a store outside of town to purchase my cell phone. Thane programs his number and the shop’s number into the device and shows me where to find the internet. It’s really quite easy to use, especiallywhen you’ve been adapting to new technology for thousands of years.
Within minutes of being home, I find several posts on something called Reddit about Lucifer’s descendants. Skimming through the posts, I notice quite a few from around five years ago.
Christ, for a group suckling at the teat of tradition, they’ve sure adapted quickly to modern technology.
Most of the posts are violent, hateful, and grossly misogynistic. The only responses they receive are from other people claiming to be Disciples themselves, and thankfully, I find many of the posts buried deep in topics related to cryptids and the supernatural.
