Beck
For such a slender thing, Zephyr ate a lot. Be it lust or strange tofu-based dishes, he was voracious. After our shower, we dined at the kitchen island, chatting while I sipped bourbon and he cozied up in a pair of my pajamas. I should have thought to buy him a change of clothes along with the shoes. I could hardly send him back to the Dollhouse in his cum-stained sweatshirt and leggings. But it was late, so that would be a problem for tomorrow.
Tomorrow. An inevitability that was swiftly becoming an object of dread.
I didn’t want to take him back, and the realization surprised me.
I wanted him here. In my clothes, in my bed, in my arms.
My suite had always been quiet, almost desolate. Lavish in its decor but empty of any real warmth. Tonight, for the first time, it felt like more than a room. It had an air ofdomesticity now that I had someone to share it with, and that was simultaneously tremendous and terrifying.
I tried not to dwell on it as we lay in bed. I hadn’t made good on my promise about sex on all the furniture, but that could wait till morning too. A good thing at the start of a bad day.
Reposed on a pile of goose-down pillows, I wove my fingers through Zephyr’s hair. He draped across me, arms around my chest and head nestled in the hollow of my shoulder. He smelled like my soap and a bit like himself. The borrowed satin button-down pooled over his pale skin, too large but also just right.
He was cute, but I knew that. Sweet, and I knew that too. He walked through the world with an enviable sense of wide-eyed wonder. He saw the best in things and people too. I liked to think I wasn’t exempt from that. In fact, I was sure I wasn’t because otherwise, he wouldn’t have gazed up at me the way he did now.
His innocence seemed at odds with everything else about him. How could a creature designed for carnal pleasure be so pure? I’d told Colette that I feared it was an act. A scheme to entice or entrap me. But he didn’t waver, and Colette spoke the truth when she said real affection, the kind that was written all over Zephyr’s sleepy face, was a hard thing to fake.
I smoothed his crimson locks, then curled a strand around my finger before letting it slip free. As much as his affection, I saw his satisfaction. His cheeks were tinted barely peach, and the shadows that often hung under his eyes had faded. He was more breathtaking than I’d thought possible, and the disparity between this and his hunger stirred a confusion I couldn’t shake.
“Why doesn’t it last?” I asked, bringing an end to alengthy silence. “I’m no expert on incubus…anatomy, but shouldn’t sex sustain you for more than a day at a time?”
Zephyr shifted away. “I think it would,” he murmured. “But it’s not sustaining just me…”
“What does that mean?”
His fingers tightened in the fabric of my shirt. “Mazzy. He… he takes from us.”
My spine straightened. “Who’s us?”
“The other guys.”
“The dancers?”
Zephyr nodded, small and tired. “He takes our… essence? So we’re always empty, and he’s always full.”
A knot formed in my gut. Carefully, I slid out from beneath him to turn and sit on the edge of the bed. “He’s feeding off you.” My eyes narrowed as I gazed out into the darkness of my suite. “But there’s…” I paused, tallying in my mind.
Zephyr, Luxe, Marvel, Hemlock, Smolder, and Spite made…
“Six?” I asked but didn’t wait for him to confirm. “No wraith could possibly need that much energy. What’s he doing with all of it?”
I turned to face him with my brows drawn together in consternation. He was sitting too, and clutching the sheet to his chest. He gave a helpless shrug as my thoughts raced.
“How often does he take from you?” I asked.
“In the morning,” he replied. “Every day.”
My jaw clenched. Anger prodded at me until I stood and began to pace, fingers curling into loose fists at my sides. “So you’re starving. And living in that prison like…”
Cattle. Livestock. Maslow said it himself. He was keeping them for food. Like sheep tended till slaughter, but this was a much slower death. Agonizing.
“He can’t do that.” I whirled toward the bed where Zephyr huddled against the headboard, wide-eyed and pale.
“What are the terms of your contract?” I demanded. “You signed one with him, didn’t you? What did it say?”
When his lips parted, the bottom one had the slightest wobble. “I-I just wanted to get out.”
