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Fury and spite could fuel her, propel her forward, but if she let her grief take over, she wasn’t so sure she’d be able to dig herself out of that pit.
Those desperately fascinated with the types of beings who lurked in the dark hardly ever enjoyed the outcome of actually finding them.
Death she was familiar with. Living would be the real challenge.
“Go home,” the stranger advised. “A house of Devils is no place for an angel like you.”
“A heart and a key would set me free,” it said. “But you should hope we do not meet again, angel.”
The Shadow Voice isn’t real. But it didn’t matter how many times she told herself that. The intrusive thoughts always managed to make a traitor of her own mind.
“First, entering Phantasma is not free,” he said, his voice slipping into a tone that sounded rehearsed. “The price is your greatest fear.”
“In order to win Phantasma you must be the last person to leave, alive, after completing all nine levels—one level for each night, beginning tomorrow. The trials begin promptly at sunset, and if you are late, you are disqualified.”
“Call her a name one more time,” he threatened, his tone bored but his eyes alight with mischief. “I dare you.”
“Look at me,” he demanded, reaching out to lightly pinch her chin and tilt her face up to his. She swallowed as she allowed her gaze to slide back to his. “This is real,” he promised. “I’m real. I’m sorry the illusion used my likeness to trick you. I need you to know if you were to ever let me touch you, in any way, the moment you wanted to stop—I would. No hesitation.”
“Good girl,”
“Whatever you say, but don’t be surprised when you find yourself having to resist begging me for more.” She glared at him. “I will never beg you for anything,” she said. He grinned. “Famous last words.”
“I want to know everything. I want to see all the darkest corners of your mind.” He tilted his face up to whisper his next words right into her ear. “I want to taste your sins.”
With Blackwell, he’d made it clear there was nothing she felt like she needed to hide. He’d seen some of the worst parts of her already, and by the end of this, she was sure he’d see it all. The woman. The Necromancer. The monster.
“You’re such a good fucking girl,”
“I need you to know that you are the only person who has ever made me feel like I am capable of anything,”
“In a different life, in a fair one, I would’ve kept you until my eternal soul withered away to dust,”
“Just let me stay. Let me hold you.”
“I’m going to devour your pussy and drink every sweet drop you give me. Then I’m going to fuck you until the only thing you can think or speak is my name. I’m going to make sure I bury myself so deep inside of you that neither of us will be able to tell where I end and you begin.”
“That’s my good girl,”
“I never want another soul to touch you like this. Only me.”
“I will fuck you until you tell me you can’t remember a single other lover’s name.”
“There’s only you,”
“In all the darkness, in all the loneliness, you have been my one source of light,” he lamented as she began to come undone. “My soul will go to its grave with your name echoing in my mind.”
“That’s right, angel,” he murmured. “You’re taking it so well.”
“I told you, I’ll always come. I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I love you,” Salem choked out. “I’m sorry you ever met me. I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Please…” she swallowed with effort, “… please, don’t forget me.”
“Ne...
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The Devil had a wicked mouth and a voice as smooth as bourbon.
Loving him will only ruin you, her mother had warned her,
The matter of my soul will always have your name etched into it.
“You’re absolutely incorrigible,” she hummed as she leaned her palms on his chest. “You love it.” She turned her head to nip at his bottom lip. “Devil.” “Angel,” he drawled. She kissed him then, long and slow, reveling in the little piece of heaven she saved from the dark depths of Hell.
