by Lola StVil
I take off and head back to the condo in Chicago. Since it’s the space I shared with her, it feels most like home. I even had it furnished and had food delivered there. It’s stupid. It’s not like she’s coming by for dinner or anything. Yet the whole time I was buying stuff I kept thinking “she’ll like this chair or this mirror.”
I’m such an idiot.
I land about a mile from the condo, as I want to take a walk and think things out. Along the way it starts to snow. Perfect. By the time I am close to my place, the city is covered in white. I hear the humans talk among each other and discuss the three-day snowstorm headed for us.
Snow is the least of my problems. She hates me. Oh, and Arken will hunt me down soon and kill me for backing out of the deal. He’s going to send Ella’s soul to hell personally. I should have had a lot more to drink at Pest’s. I debate going to the bar across the street, but in the end, I head home instead.
There’s someone sitting on the front of steps my building, with their arms wrapped around their knees and their head down. The figure is covered by a sheet of snow, but I can make out long strands of wild blonde hair.
Disney…
I run over to her side. She’s pale, shivering, and frozen to the bone. She looks up at me with sorrow etched in her eyes. She speaks in a faint, childlike whisper.
“I was surrounded by angels tonight, yet I was in hell. Turns out, hell is anywhere you’re not. You saved my soul tonight, and you don’t owe me anything more, especially after what I said to you. But can you save me one more time—can you hold me?”
She sobs against my chest, and I wrap my arms and my wings around her. I cradle her for a few moments and then I pick my girl up and take her home.
***
I place her on the sofa and cover her up. I send orbs of flames into the fireplace; it creates a warm orange glow around the room. She holds on as she cries in waves. Sometimes it’s a soft moaning and other times it’s a loud, primal weeping that comes with losing the one you love. She’s mourning for her mother all over again. But this time it’s worse because she knows it could have been prevented. And that hurts like hell. I should know…
She feels so light in my arms; I’m worried she’ll somehow fade away. I want to take care of her, I want to feed her body and replenish her spirit so that she can go back to the crazy spitfire badass she was when we first met. But she won’t let me leave her long enough to make her something to eat. She swears the only thing she needs is to be here with me. I hope that’s enough; please let that be enough.
I tuck her head under my chin and look out the large paneled window. The snow outside is relentless. It covers the streets of Chicago like a large white blanket. The skyline is coated to the point where it’s hard to make out the buildings clearly. Chicago has gone quiet and eventually so does my girl. The only sound comes from the crackling fire a few feet away.
I twist around slightly so I can see her face—she’s sleeping. I gently maneuver so that I can get out from underneath her. I’m thankful when she groans deeply but ultimately remains sleeping. I take off her boots and readjust the throw to make sure she’s completely covered. I walk over to the large mirror in the hallway and stare at the circular markings on my wings. I take out the blade that Pest gave me and cut into my flesh.
It hurts like crazy. I would be screaming my damn head off, to be honest, but I don’t want to wake her. And I don’t want to do this somewhere else and have to leave her alone in the condo. So, I suck it up and carve away at the symbol. The pain is intense; I have to bite down into my arms to keep from crying out. The symbol of Keysu is embedded so deep, only a Tusk blade can reach it. Tuck blades cut right to the bone. I make another cut around the marking. I slam my head against the mirror—hard because the pain is just that fucking bad.
I look over and she’s still sleeping; relieved, I continue to undo the mark given to me by Arken. It takes almost half an hour to cut it out completely. I walk over to the fireplace, still in pain, and throw the bloody patch of skin with the Keysu mark into the flames. I pray Ella will forgive me for what I have done. I pray she doesn’t hate me, wherever she is.
After I tend to my wounds, I head back to the sofa, where I can watch over her. Disney sleeps for an entire day. I’ve been there. But I usually get to sleep with the help of copious amounts of alcohol. I’m glad she’s getting some rest. She’s been through every emotion possible in the past few hours. She deserves some rest.
Her team calls her over and over again. I place the ringer on “silent.” But I text them back, saying she’s with me and she’s okay. I expect them to have an issue with it, especially Mason, but their return text just says “Tell her we are here for her—always.”
Towards the end of the second day, I decide it doesn’t matter what she wants—she’s going to eat something. I pick her up and take her into the bedroom so that the sound of me messing around in the kitchen doesn’t wake her up. I make her a simple but hearty roasted butternut soup. When I take it to her, she’s awake but doesn’t speak or eat. She just stares out the window at the city coated in white. She’s run out of tears—again. Now all she’s left with is questions and regret.
Later on, I tried again to get her to eat. This time, I toasted a piece of cinnamon bread and buttered it up for her—nothing. All she did was signal for me to lie in bed next to her. So, that’s what I did. I held her and let her travel deeper and deeper into her own thoughts, hoping she’d feel like sharing soon. Night falls on the second day, and she has not eaten at all. I don’t know how to help her. So, I give up, turn her face towards me, and just tell her what’s on my mind.
“Disney, it’s killing me that you’re not eating anything. Please, get something in your system—for me.” She reluctantly agrees but says she has a request. When she tells me what it is, I gather the ingredients quickly. She tells me it’s something she and her mom used to make together—the only thing they ever made in the kitchen—hot chocolate. I talk her into coming to the kitchen with me to keep me company as I make it. Once there, I take out cream, a bar of rich chocolate, cinnamon bark, sugar, and cocoa power. She watches me curiously.
“Where’s the box of chocolate packets?” she says.
“You know real hot chocolate doesn’t come in a box, right?”
“Yeah, I knew that,” she lies. We both burst out laughing. It’s an unexpected but welcomed sound.
“Can I help?” she asks.
“Sure, grab the mugs from the cabinet over to your right,” I reply. She picks out two large white mugs and places them on the counter. I make her Persian hot chocolate; I figure she’ll like that. I let her sip from the spoon, and she beams.
“It never tasted like this when Mom and I made it,” she says, amazed.
“I’m sure you two did a great powder mix, better than most.”
“No, we kind of suck at that too, but it’s the trying we love—loved,” she says, remembering that her mother will never again be standing over a stove with her. Her eyes grow sad again.
Fuck me.
“I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay,” she says.
“I cut out the mark from my wings—the one that Arken gave me.”
“Does that mean—”
“Yeah, I’m no longer the Keysu.”
“Ohmygod?” she says with tears in her eyes.
“I did it while you were asleep. I still have the same amount of power. I guess it takes time for Arken to take back the additional powers he gave me,” I reply, showing her my newly formed circular wound. She rushes over and wraps her arms around me. But when she looks back at me, she is troubled.
“Wait, can you do that? Can you just quit?” she asks.
“No one has done it before, but yeah, technically.”
“How is Arken going to react? Liam, is he going to try to kill you?”
“If he wants to kill me, he won’t have to try, Disney. He’ll just do it. But I don’t care about that. I only care about y
ou and what happens to you.”
“I have my powers now. Hopefully I’ll get better at controlling them. I won’t let him hurt you.”
“Let’s not think about that right now, okay?”
I can tell she wants to argue, so I’m relieved when she nods her head “yes.” The relief she felt knowing I’m no longer Keysu is short lived for her. She’s terrified of the repercussions. That makes two of us. But fuck it; I can’t keep acting like my life hasn’t changed since I met her.
I’m not the Keysu anymore. In fact, the day I met her, I stopped being anything other than hers. The hard part is knowing Ella won’t be at peace. She asks me about Ella, and I shrug as if I’m okay with the situation. I’m not. She knows that but allows me my pretense.
I fill the mugs with hot chocolate and we head back to the bedroom. She sits on the edge of the bed and sips her drink. I am over by the window a few feet away. For a while, neither of us talks. We just take in the white wonderland that is Chicago.
“Thank you,” she says.
“It’s no big deal. It takes like three minutes to make. I’m just glad I had everything we needed.”
“I’m not talking about the chocolate; thank you for giving up being Keysu and for not killing Quinn.”
“If I thought it was what you really wanted, I would have done it without hesitation. You know that.”
“Yeah, I do. I can’t believe everything that’s happened. I never thought Sadie would keep something like that from me. I never suspected my mom’s death was murder. And I didn’t think a girl who claimed to be my friend would be the one responsible.”
“She didn’t know you back then. If she had, it may have turned out differently,” I offer.
“I don’t know what’s gonna happen now. I don’t know anything.”
“You don’t need to decide anything right now, give yourself a moment,” I suggest.
“Yeah, I guess. I was so angry and sad; I didn’t know what to do with all of my rage. Was that what it was like for you . . . during your Break? Did it consume you too?” she asks. I don’t reply. I look out at the falling snow.
“Sorry—I know you don’t want to tell me. It’s okay. I won’t push. I promise.”
“I want to tell you, Disney. I do. But it will change the way you see me.”
“Whatever you tell me, whatever you did…it won’t change how I look at you. Don’t you realize by now—I couldn’t stop loving you. I don’t know how.”
“Are you sure you don’t want anything more than the chocolate? How about pancakes? Or maybe—”
“Liam.”
“Disney, you don’t know what you’re asking of me.”
“Okay, you don’t have to tell me. But you saved my soul at the bookstore. And I want you to know—I need you to know—I am yours. I’m yours to confide in, yours to love. No matter what.”
“Things like this don’t happen for demons like me…”
“Liam Kane, I don’t think there’s ever been a demon like you… Come here,” she orders in a soft voice. I walk over and stand above her. There’s a new emotion behind her gorgeous eyes—desire.
***
PLEASE NOTE THE REST OF THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT. YOUNGER READERS CAN SKIP TO THE NEXT CHAPTER WITHOUT MISSING ANY PLOT POINTS.
“Are you sure, baby?” I ask.
“I was full of rage after the memory stone, which was followed by bitterness and grief. And now, right now, I feel empty. I want to feel something another than the dull ache that comes with mourning. Fill me up with something other than loss.”
I raise her arms above her head and slide her shirt off. I kneel before her and part her lips with my tongue. She eagerly kisses me back. I focus on the black see-though mesh paneling of her bra. Her nipples are starting to harden behind the delicate fabric. I want them to reach out for me. I graze my lips along the panel over and over again, causing the peaks of her breasts to harden more and more. By the time I add the tip of my tongue to the rotation, her nipples are erect and demanding to be free. I give them what they ask for and unhook her bra.
I knead one of her breasts with my hand while lapping at the other. Whether it’s with my tongue, lips, or fingers, I never break contact with her nipples. The steady contact sends her into overdrive. She groans and shivers as I make my way down her body.
Shit, nothing should feel this good.
I slide her panties down her thighs, past her ankles, and onto the floor. I part her legs and dip my finger into her center. I glide my thumb along the most sensitive part of her until she’s wet and whimpering. My mouth is jealous as hell at where my fingers get to go. I fix that. I place my face between her thighs and drink. She tastes like French-vanilla ice cream and summer.
Goddamn.
She pants and twists with longing. “Liam, please!” She moans, deep in ecstasy. She’s not the only one in need. If I don’t find myself inside her, right now, I swear to Orah, I’m going to die. I quickly strip naked and get on top of her.
She flicks her tongue across my nipples and manages to do what most demons can’t—place me at her mercy. She likes that. She likes the effect she has on me. So, she flips me over and is now on top. She is the one in control.
My girl is so damn dangerous.
She lowers her head between my legs and skims her tongue along the length of my member and ignites me. Just when I think I can’t get any more turned on, she takes me in her mouth—all of me. She sends shocks surging though my body, shocks so powerful, I buck out of control. I try to fight it, but once she impales herself on me and begins to ride me, she has my complete and total surrender. Together we ride wave after wave of pleasure until we are lost in a sea of soul-shattering orgasms.
When she wakes up hours later, she looks peaceful, serene. She places her head on my bare chest. I stroke her hair and tell her that I consider myself pretty damn lucky to have been the one she chose to be with—let alone chose to be her very first.
“Liam, I love you. Since day one.”
“I love you too. That’s why I want you to know all about it,” I whisper.
“All about what?”
“The day I became a demon.”
“You want to tell me about your Break?” she says, looking up at me.
“Yes.”
“I’m listening. What did you do to become a demon?” she says, taking my hand in hers as she sits up.
“I stabbed my mother in the face. Forty-one times…”
I’ve never told anyone about my Break. I had no idea how hard it would be to find the right place to start. It’s crazy how giving a voice to your past can make it feel like it’s right in front of you, like it’s happening to you right now. If it were anyone else, I’m certain I wouldn’t be able to tell my story. But it’s her. She doesn’t look at me impatiently while I try to find the words. I think she’d wait forever if it’s what I needed. I’m about to start when I spot a flash of something bright on her arm.
Shit.
“We’re gonna have to save the story for another time, Disney. Your mark is glowing,” I tell her as I get up and quickly begin to put my clothes on. She studies the mark inside her palm and looks back at me.
“Why is it glowing? What does it mean?”
“It’s called the final five clock. You have five hours left to find the veil or the mission is over.”
“I didn’t know the items had a clock on them,” she replies as she hurries out of bed and starts to get dressed.
“You have a lead, right?” I ask.
“We thought we did. We were going to use a series of tunnels that were said to lead to the afterlife, but we found out—”
“Arken had them all sealed.”
“So, we have no way of getting to the afterlife. We failed even before we started—I’ve failed.”
“You haven’t failed. There’s another way we can get to the Afterlife, but it’s risky.”
“How?”
“I could teleport you there. I still have
Keysu powers—at least for the time being. It’s strong enough to get you there, but I don’t know how long it will last.”
“Okay, let’s do it.”
“Wait, that would mean that I would have to come along with you. Your team won’t agree to that. I’m the bad guy, remember?”
“They want to save humanity. They will work with you—they have no choice.”
“If my powers give out, we could all get stuck there,” I warn. “It’s a risk.”
“What isn’t?” she asks.
“You think you can sell your team on bringing me along?”
“I don’t know, but I have to try.”
“Disney…you know I want to go with you. I want to make sure you come back. But asking them to trust me enough to go along? They’ll never do it.”
“They don’t have to trust you, Liam. They only have to trust me. And I think they do. The question is, are you okay switching sides?”
“I already cut the marking from my body,” I remind her.
“Yes, I know. That tells me you are rejecting Arken and his plan. But I need to know that you are also embracing our side.”
“After everything I’ve done…”
“I just tried to kill a member of my team. I nearly set an entire block on fire and there’s still a good chance that I’ll beat the hell out of Quinn. Only Orah knows what I will do to Langston. Angel or otherwise, no one is perfect.”
“It wasn’t her fault. Langston was spelled to do what she did,” I reply.
“What do you mean?” she asks. I explain everything to her, and when I’m done she smiles.
“What is it?”
“You save Quinn’s life and now you are defending Langston. I hate to tell you this, but you officially suck at being the bad guy.”
“You think your team wants me with them?”
“I think they need you with them—I need you.”