Like sadness.
Like a raven flying low under the starry death of forever.
She was perfect.
And not in the way perfection should be. Better. Darker. Messy in all the right places.
“Mmmm,” I howled at her throat. I didn’t know if we were still fucking. All I knew was that I never wanted to stop.
My bones cracked when I caught our tears in our mouths, mixing everything up in saltwater.
The scales down my nape flickered in the dead light while the creature within me spun and drank as her mouth and hips took me all at once until the universe fractured.
“Fuck,” I moaned into her body, my cock throbbing and pulsing, pushing her back over the ledge. I caught her orgasmagainst my molars, refusing to break the kiss as I broke inside her.
She had the letters of my last name bleeding down her ribs.
My dick deep within her, singing.
The cum she asked for dripping down her legs.
She had my soul, my monster, my goddamn stars… And now, she had my mouth, kissing her lungs with rain-soaked darkness.
But me? I had her heart trapped in my ribcage.
Beat.
Its willpower electrifying my body, keeping me alive.
Beat.
The perfect song. The perfect drug. The reason God exists.
Beat.
Somewhere in the background, a red flash lit up Wolfe’s wristband. Lyla was dead.
Beat.
I pulled back, just enough to look my bride in the eyes. They were glowing in ways I’d never seen, as if someone had finally pushed the last puzzle piece of her soul into place. Even if she knew what that meant. The Underworld wasn’t a location; it was a man, and now that he had her beating inside his ribcage, he would never let her go.
Just like she wanted.
Beat.
twenty-eight
Daphne: Graveyard
We were a tangled mess of limbs and sweat when Thay pulled me closer, as if the idea of space still rang true. As if there was anything left of my skin that didn’t belong to him. I felt enmeshed, completely folded, and breathing violet in my newfound existence.
His, I wrote in the back of my mind.
The prettiest sonnet.
The saddest raincloud.
My most profound truth.