Page 59 of Fighting My Demons

“You blood-sifted her earlier. What did you see?” Latham asks me.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing. I saw the same as you,” I tell him.

Latham seems to think for a second.

“We need to visit her old home. We have no choice but to take her back.”

“So you believe a demon mark taints her?” Xavier asks, and Latham nods while thinking.

“No, he hasn’t marked her to him, but I believe he has touched her so he can always find her.”

“Why, if he was just going to disappear?” I ask.

“Exactly, he knew he needed to go for some reason. I would bet he was always going to come back for her,” Latham says while instinctively wrapping his arms around her as though afraid someone would snatch her from his grip.

“We will find whoever it is, and when we do, we will kill them,” I tell Latham.

“But after we take Bella home. I think it is time we take Bella home to Soya. She will be safest at your place.”

“You aren’t going to run off on us if we return home?” Xavier asks, having missed our earlier conversation.

“Never. No, once we get back to Soya City and are safe, we will mark her soul, and then…”

“And then what?” Xavier asks curiously.

“We make her immortal,” Latham answers simply, though I have my doubts.

Humans tend to value their humanity. The idea of forever could be daunting to most. But watching how gentle Latham is with her, I don’t think she would have much of a choice. I’ve always been certain that forever would be inevitable. She would never escape us, and a selfish part of me is excited for that, excited for the four of us. I have never wanted something so bad since finding Xavier. Never craved another the way I do Latham. She truly is sin and I would burn over and over again for the mere mortal on his chest.

But first, we need to find out what is chasing her, what marked her soul for keeps, something I won’t allow. No, her soul, mind, and heart are ours to covet, even if she doesn’t truly understand what that means. She is our drug, and soon, we would be hers.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Bella

Warm fingers move gently up my sides, and the low rumbling growl beneath my ear can only be described as a purr. His fingers move lazily across my ribs, making me shiver as heat dances across where they graze. Moving, I blink. My entire body aches in a good way, and I am comfortable despite lying on Latham’s chest, which is extremely hot. His fingers move across my clammy skin again. My skin glistens with moisture as perspiration coats my skin. My hair is drenched and sticking to my face. Turning my head, I look up to see Latham staring off vacantly, his eyes completely black, yet his fingers continue to move gently across my skin.

The look on his face is otherworldly, like looking into a bottomless well. For once, instead of fear creeping in at the look on his face, I want the meaning behind it. The tortured look on his face is like he is watching his deepest fears come true. I know because I have seen it a million times; it is the same dark look I’d caught in the mirror a few times when I had to put the mask back on, hide the parts of myself I truly couldn’t handle hiding anymore.

The parts I longed to set free but knew I couldn’t because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to go back to being Isobella. No, I would want my identity back. I would want to set Arabella free, and once free, I knew I would give in. I would give in to whatever awaited me for her freedom. Even if it was my life, even if it meant being sold off to whoever my brother agreed to give me to all those years ago. So like always, that small peek at who I once was was stuffed back, and the mask came out, shielding me from myself, keeping me safe because what I feared most was being me.

Watching Latham, I am beginning to realize he is wearing a mask too, yet he is so much better at keeping the person behind it hidden. Better at his persona than I am. His secrets are ingrained so deeply that it is like they don’t exist. He wears armor like a classy suit. Yet now, seeing him like this, I know that armor would be stained with blood, but I want more; I want what is behind the armor, behind the darkness that surrounds and consumes him. I want him. I want all of them.

Latham murmurs softly, the word Myra slipping from his lips. He says it almost like a prayer, but I can also hear the anguish behind it.

Reaching up, I touch his face, and the reaction is instant. The walls are put back in place, and I suddenly find myself on my back beneath him. He moves so quickly that he knocks the wind out of me, and the movement is a blur, his hand around my throat as he blinks, trying to get his bearings back. No, pressure to cut off my air more to just hold me in place, like he is using me to anchor himself.

“Arabella!” he growls, removing his hand and dropping his head against my chest as he breathes deeply. His overly hot body is pressed between my legs, and I realize his body heat is what’s heated the room up and why I am sweating.

“Where did you go?” I ask him.

“Where didn’t I go?” he rambles, making my brows furrow.

“I don’t understand.”

“That would be a good thing. You would run if you knew,” he says before pushing off his arms to sit up, but I wrap my legs around his waist, tugging him back.

“Arabella…” he says.