She squeezes my hand, then lets go and picks up her wine glass again.“So, are you going to see him again?”
“I think so.Maybe.I don’t know.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I hope you do.I haven’t seen you this worked up over someone in… ever, actually.It’s kind of nice.Even if you are being all mysterious about it and he’s into some kinky shit.”
I manage a smile.“Thanks, May.”
We finish our dinner and say our goodbyes, but it hardly registers.My mind is miles away, back at The Undertow, replaying every word Theron said.Every touch.Every promise.
When you’re ready, when you come back to me, I won’t hold back.I’ll give you everything you’ve ever fantasized about and more.
By the time I get home, it’s past nine.My apartment feels empty and too quiet.I drop my keys on the counter and stand at the window, staring out at the dark ocean.He’s out there somewhere.In the deep places where light doesn’t reach.Waiting.For me.
I should go to bed, then try to have a normal day tomorrow.But I know I won’t sleep.I know I’ll lie there thinking about him, aching, until I can’t stand it anymore.
I pull out my phone and scroll aimlessly through social media, but nothing holds my attention.I put on music, but the songs feel all wrong.I try to work on a new design, but my hands won’t cooperate.All I can think about is the way his tentacles felt wrapped around my legs.The hunger in his eyes.His statement about us being meant for each other.
I abandon my laptop and head to the bathroom, stripping off my clothes and turning on the shower.Maybe hot water will help clear my head.I stand under the spray, eyes closed, and all I can see is Theron.All I can feel is the ghost of his touch, his hand covering mine.
My hand drifts between my legs.I’m already wet.I’ve been wet since dinner, maybe since I woke up this morning.The ache hasn’t gone away.Hell, it’s only gotten worse.
I circle my clit slowly, letting the pleasure build.I imagine Theron here with me, his tentacles wrapping around my wrists, holding me against the shower wall.One thick appendage sliding between my legs, filling me the way I’ve been craving.
I gasp, my hips rocking against my hand.But it’s not enough.It’s never enough anymore.I needhim.
I finish quickly, mechanically, the orgasm barely taking the edge off.When I step out of the shower, I feel more frustrated than satisfied.So I make my decision.
I’m going back.Tonight.
Chapter Six
Theron
She’s not coming back.
I’ve been telling myself she will.That her desire is too strong, her longing too deep.That the pull between us is undeniable.But it’s been a full two days and nights since I let her walk out that door, and every hour that passes makes the doubt dig deeper.
I should have claimed her the moment she stepped into The Undertow.I should have wrapped every one of my tentacles around her and dragged her into the deep before she had a chance to remember the surface world.But I wanted her to choose me.I wanted her to realize that the plastic imitations she surrounds herself with are nothing compared to the reality of my touch.And she needs to choose me for the bond to snap into place fully.I can’t force her.
I felt her after she left.Even through the veil, the surge of her arousal hit me like a rogue wave.I felt her skin flush, her pulse quicken, and that specific, sharp ache she carries for me.I felt the moment she settled herself in front of that window and took a piece of silicone into her body, imagining it was me.
My own shadows lashed out at the sensation, my tentacles coiling tight with a need so primal I nearly tore the door from its hinges to get to her.She was calling for me, but then she finished.She pulled back.She chose the silence of her apartment over the heat of my lair.
I lean against the bar, a glass of something strong and amber in my hand that I haven’t even touched.Around me, The Undertow hums with its usual energy.Conversations in a dozen languages, laughter, and the clink of glasses.But it all feels muted and distant to me.Because all I can think about is her.Lilith.The curve of her face when she looked up at me.The way her pulse jumped when I touched her hand.The scent of her arousal when my tentacles wrapped around her thighs.
I’ve existed for centuries.I’ve been patient, solitary, content in my loneliness because I believed I had no choice.And then she started creating.
The first time I felt that pull, that ache she translated into silicone and fantasy, I thought I was imagining it.Some human designing adult toys was nothing unusual.But the feeling persisted and grew stronger.Every new creation she made sent ripples through the veil, and I felt every single one, so I started paying attention.I learned her name.Her business.The careful artistry she poured into every design.And slowly, I realized: she wasn’t just making toys.She was calling out of the darkness, hoping her mate would answer.
So I answered.
I’ve been waiting three years for her to be ready.Three years of feeling her longing, her loneliness, her desperate need for something real.And now that she’s finally found me, I wonder, what if I was wrong?What if the reality of what I am is too much for her?What if she goes back to her safe human life and convinces herself it was all a dream, leaving me to wither without her?
No.I shouldn’t doubt.Our souls have been entwined since the first time she put pen to paper to draw a curve that looked like my limb.She is the anchor I didn’t know I was searching for, and I am the shore she was born to crash against.We are a symmetry of hunger, two halves of a dark, ancient whole.The universe doesn’t make mistakes like this.
I growl and set the glass down hard enough to crack the wood of the bar.If she doesn’t come tonight, I’ll stop being patient.I’ll stop waiting for an invitation.I’ll cross the veil and remind her that no amount of silicone can ever replace the way I’ll make her scream.
“You’re brooding.”
