So let her flirt. Let him think he stands a chance. Let him stumble through compliments. Let him make her laugh.
I’ll be there when it all falls apart. With my broken pieces and blood-soaked edges, I won’t be perfect. I won’t be easy. But I’ll be hers if she wants me.
Ezra
The shadows move first. Some slither ahead, stretching long across the floor, twisting toward the door. Others coil at my feet, hungry and eager.
They already know where I’m going. Who I’m hunting.
Not the worthless male.
But the woman with fire in her blood and my name carved behind her heart in the space where want and wrath intertwine.
I don’t remember grabbing my coat. Or crossing the room. But suddenly, I’m at the door. My hand’s already on the knob, fingers curled tight, my body moving before I even realize it.
I was made for this. For her. For war.
A slow, sharp smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth.
“She’s a monster.”
The words scrape from my throat, raw with something brutally close to emotion.
My shadows flicker, shifting at the sound of my voice.
They know. They feel it too.
She’s a monster, just like me.
I step outside, the night swallowing me whole, grounding me in purpose again.
Jameson seems normal, but he’s not her equal. She’ll burn through him, just like all the other humans she’s been with. I’d buy tickets to watch Aurora hand this male his balls on a gilded platter. Because eventually, this Jameson will fuck up.
Male humans are disgusting pigs.
Yes, I’m aware I self-identify as a monster, but I’ve never raped a woman. I’ve never murdered a woman who didn’t deserve it. I’ve never stalked a woman to make her feel fear, and even now I watch Aurora to keep her safe. If she sensed my presence and seemed scared, I would back off immediately.
She is mine. But I will not force her. I will not break her. I will not twist her mind to see what I see.
She will realize, in time, and then come to me willingly.
Because I am the only one who can satisfy her. I am the only one who is her equal.
My shadows coil, pulsing around my wrists like shackles.
Are they agreeing with me? Issuing some kind of warning? I have no fucking clue. I don’t speak shadow gremlin.
I stroll through the woods, watching some of the shadows burrow under piles of dead leaves or slither up trees. Some, however, curl against my wrists and neck, nuzzling close in quiet comfort.
Wonderful. Half my shadows are chasing squirrels, while the rest are convinced I’m seconds away from emotional collapse.
They’ve been with me through blood-soaked battles, watched me topple empires, and helped me tear enemies limb from limb. But please, by all means, let’s cuddle like we didn’t bathe in blood yesterday.
I take up my usual position outside Aurora’s house at the tree line, shaking the sleeping shadows from my body.
I still don’t know what these inky fuckers are up to, but I need every part of me alert tonight. They’ve been twitchy all damn day, too aware of the things I haven’t said out loud.
Once I’ve convinced my shadows to settle at my feet, I glance at the little green cottage. Aurora is on the porch talking to the hellhound.
