Ezra shifts, then uses my hand as leverage to pull me to him. He wraps his arms around me, leaning his head on my shoulder and angling his face toward me, so that his breath grazes my neck. It’s ragged and panicked.
When our bodies touch, his shadows press in, too, curling around the small of my back in an absentminded embrace. They shift like restless hands, uncertain but wanting.
Whatever connects us, whatever pulls when we’re apart, doesn’t hurt as much when I’m near him like this.
Ezra wouldn’t hurt me.
Not even as a terrifying black dog ripped straight from my nightmares.
But would he hurt Louie? Push him hard enough, and I’m not so sure.
“I’m sorry.” Ezra’s voice is low and hoarse. His fingers twitch against my skin as he holds me closer. “I try not to let my … more primal side take over. But I lost myself for a moment.”
His stormy gaze flicks to Louie, a hint of danger still rolling beneath the surface.
Reluctantly, I pull away from him and clear my throat, while I gently glide my fingers over the painful bruises on my neck.
“Okay, let’s set this deal aside for a moment.”
Ezra and Lou watch as I pace the length of my living room.
What does this all mean?
When I finally stop moving, I turn back to Ezra, who sits in my reading chair again, looking slightly uncomfortable.
“You said I’m inevitable, and talk like I’m meant to lead armies, but I can’t even stand up without shaking. So, where is it? Where’s the part that makes me more than just broken? Did my mother take that too? Or am I just … wrong?”
Ezra shifts restlessly in his seat, his shadows flickering at his feet, nervous echoes of his own discomfort. A tendril curls around the chair leg before snapping back into the dark.
He glances at Louie.
“What was that look for?” I ask, my tone sharper than intended.
For two creatures who can’t seem to stand each other, they’re fucking fantastic at keeping secrets. My patience at this point is almost non-existent and my neck hurts like a motherfucker.
“Ezra, mate, you can take this one.” Louie grins at Ezra.
At least, I think she does. Has she always had that many teeth?
Ezra glares at the hellhound before turning back to me, his features softening once more.
“Aurora, what I’m about to tell you may be a bit awkward, so I hope you’ll forgive me if my words come across as … hm … embarrassing or vulgar.”
He pauses there, waiting for my permission to continue.
“Okay …”
Ezra shifts, his jaw tight, eyes flicking to the side.
Is he blushing?
“This is according to folklore and notes from the Disciples, mind you,” he says, voice carefully neutral.
“I’ve never met a Daughter of the Morning Star, so I can neither confirm nor deny the information I’m about to give you. But …”
He pauses and takes a deep breath, his gaze flickering to mine with quiet hesitation.
Apparently, he thinks everyone is immortal and has all the time in the world.
