Because here, in this lovely pocket hidden away in a demon realm, it was indeed very easy to forget about his dwindling humanity.
“Those of us that fell first were the birth of philosophy.” Leviathan murmured with another smooth smile.
“I suppose you would be.” Cullen whispered back.
They had stayed there, in that lovely cavern beneath the earth–or wherever it was–for hours. Had plucked flower after flower until they overflowed Cullen’s hands and decorated his hair. He had laughed the first time Leviathan tucked one behind his ear, had blushed and turned away to hide the light he could feel in his eyes. Not that it mattered when Leviathan could see right into his head.
Though he didn’t say a word about Cullen’s thoughts. About how he worried that he would not want to leave, that Leviathan would get his way, that he was too weak willed to push him away and leave. Cullen supposed he looked rather pathetic–hefeltrather pathetic–but he wasn’t sure what to do about it.
All he could do, he supposed, was follow through withthe lie he kept telling himself. Go along with that quiet little voice in his mind that told him hehadto leave when the time came, that he had to hold onto his humanity. That voice was growing quieter with each passing day, though. It had been since the beginning.
He really wasn’t sure what he would do when the choice was finally in front of him.
42
Time passed in a strange and pleasant blur.
Every day, a new place. A new experience. Sometimes it was as simple as a hotel on the coast of some strange country where they could wake up and see the cobalt blue of the ocean stretched out in front of them. And sometimes it was something astonishing; dinner on top of a mountain, in abandoned temples that always brought some sort of story out of Leviathan.
Gods he had known. Gods he had killed. Places where he had been worshiped, where people had knelt and begged for mercy. He did not offer up how often he had granted that mercy, and Cullen did not ask. Had no need to. He knew the stories–or a handful of them, at least–though Leviathan painted a much more colorful, more excitable version of events.
Cullen listened closely, taking in names and locations carefully, watching the shifts in Leviathan’s face each time, picking out when he liked talking about someone and whenhe looked somewhat irritated at the memories. Once in a while he would think of a question to ask, and Leviathan’s face would light up with joy, as if he was both pleased and surprised he had taken an interest. Cullen always gave him hesitant smiles back in those moments, butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
It was difficult in those moments to remember that he was supposed to hate this man, this demon. Difficult to remember that Leviathan evenwasa demon. For all those smiles and soft touches, he could have been human.
Those dark memories of the beginning began to melt away. A deadly, idiotic mistake. One he could not even pretend to know how to fix. One he really didn’t caretofix either.
“You’re overthinking again.”
It took Cullen a few minutes to find a response, his eyes on the pillow beside him while Leviathan traced designs along his shoulder, his face pressed close to the back of his neck.
“There’s a lot going on in my life. It’s hard to not overthink.” Besides, he’d always been this way. Even with Walker he’d worried about things that couldn’t be helped. Or known, since Walker didn’t like to discuss such things. He’d worried if the sex had been good–and had assumed not for quite some time, since Walker had so little interest–and if Walker actually cared for him, with all his snide, indifferent comments. Those concerns had never gone away, even after all those years together. He’d simply gotten a little better at ignoring them.
And now…now it was hard to ignore the way Leviathan did exactly everything right. Said all the right things, touched him exactly where and how he wanted to be touched, held him in exactly the right way.
This will be mine before the time is up.Leviathan had said in the beginning, his lips against his heart.
It was so terribly close to being true.
“Are you upset with me?”
The back of his neck began to burn at the words. “Couldn’t you just see into my head to know the answer?”
“You dislike when I do that.”
He sighed softly, turning to press his cheek into the pillow. “How long has it been?”
“Since?”
“The vow we made.” He mumbled, trying to ignore the way Leviathan’s gaze was burning a hole in his head.
There was a long, long pause. “Four months.” He said finally.
Cullen sucked in a breath, his eyes popping wide. “Really?”
“Yes.”
He frowned, counting back the days in his mind. Yes. Four months. He’d lost track of time so easily. And he was almost regretful. Almost hated that he’d let the time pass with them and had not been counting every moment–
