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As we leave the café and stroll down the Halloween-decorated boutique streets, the autumn crowds swirl around us in vibrant costumes. But I never feel unsafe. Every couple of blocks, whenever I glance toward an upper roof awning or a dark alleyway between shops, I catch a flicker of obsidian. The shadowy form of the Devil Dog prowls silently nearby, guarding my every step from the dark.
The power of its protection hums warmly in my chest, a low, steady vibration that locks our spirits together in the quiet dark. It’s a completely different feeling than what I share with Vesper. While Vesper is protective like a lover, the cryptid is pure territorial claim, standing watch over me like he’s guarding his master.
We stop in front of a high-end boutique display window decorated with black lace, dried roses, and scented candles.
Oakley stops, gasping as he points to a delicate piece draped over a satin form in the center of the glass. It’s a sheer, whisper-thin robe of dark, translucent fabric that cascades down in gossamer folds like spun twilight.
Oakley leans into my ear, whispering mischievously, “Oh, wow. Bellamy… that piece is ridiculously sexy. You should totally get it.”
I stare at the sheer fabric shimmering under the boutique display lights. My mind instantly flashes back to the manor. To the dark mahogany bed, to the living shadows Vesper uses to hold me, and the way his glowing crimson eyes darken whenever he looks at my skin.
A slow, wicked smile touches my lips.
“It really is,” I whisper back, my fingers tracing the cold glass of the window. “It’ll look just like shadows kissing my skin.” Off to my right, I see the perfect item to complete the ensemble.
Chapter sixteen
Vesper
Istand on the cold stone balcony of my private chamber, my hands gripping the railing as I stare out into the foggy canopy of the redwoods. Despite the chill of the autumn night, the demon fire burning beneath my ribs refuses to cool. Down the mountain, Wraith’s Harbor is celebrating Halloween, its streets glowing with orange and purple lanterns and buzzing with energy. Somewhere down in that chaotic sea of mortals, Bellamy is walking around with his old friend and Killian.
My fingers flex, claws digging into my palms.
I spent the entire afternoon stalking Gregory’s paid guns, keeping my mind occupied by watching them scramble around, trying to follow Gregory’s manic orders. They’re clueless, arrogant men who think they’re hunting an ordinary runaway, unaware of the shadowy horror waiting for them in these woods. Only Gregory, Kyle, and Jake seem to be piecing it together, but Gregory is slowly losing his mind, and his unraveling sanity is making his men lose every shred of respect for him. Yet no matter how closely I monitored Gregory’s movements, my focus was split, my heart pounding like a sledgehammer against my ribs.
I was terrified today.
Every second Bellamy spent outside my wards, every breath he took away from my territory and home, felt like a wire tightening around my throat. I kept expecting the bond to snap. To cease existing. I kept expecting him to realize how easy it would be to slip into the crowd and never come back to this dark, lonely estate.
A familiar thrum ripples through the center of my chest.
The triad link hums with a steady beat. Rather than distant, it’s right here inside the manor, pulsing with a sweet, intoxicating heat that makes my breath hitch.
He’s home. He didn’t leave me.
Shoving away from the stone railing, I stride inside, pulling the grand balcony doors shut behind me. I tear off my damp coat, tossing it onto a chair, my chest heaving as I stride across the dim, moonlit bedchamber toward the hallway.
The oak door to my chamber creaks open before I even reach for the handle. I freeze, my mouth falling slack, brain short-circuiting.
Bellamy stands in the doorway.
The cold façade I have cultivated over centuries crumbles in a single instant.
He isn’t wearing the hoodie or the outfit he left in. He’s draped in a sheer robe of dark, translucent fabric that shimmers, yet doesn’t cover a damn thing. Beneath the gossamer cloth, he wears the black lace lingerie set I bought for him weeks ago, framing his hips and slender waist in delicate, sinful darkness that reminds me of my shadows. His long, wavy hair spills wildly over his shoulders. A tight lace choker hugs the vulnerable length of his neck, resting just above the glowing mark of our bond. And tilted casually to the side is a large black witch’s hat, reminding me of my earlier words.
‘Are you a damn witch? Because I swear you put a spell on me.’
My eyes devour every inch. His soft, plush lips are painted a dark blood red that makes my cock instantly hard.
A wicked, knowing smirk touches his red mouth as his emerald eyes lock with mine. He looks like a dark, erotic fantasy summoned to ruin me.
“You know, I could get used to you staring at me like this, Vesper,” Bellamy purrs. His voice is breathless and laced with confidence. He steps into the room, closing the large doors behind him. He moves with a slow, feline grace, his hips swaying seductively as he saunters toward me.
Fucking hell, I’m completely frozen to the spot. The ancient, ruthless demon who commands a damn shadow beast and eats corrupt souls for dinner is pinned in place by a human in lace with blood-colored lips.
“I thought… I thought you might leave me,” I choke out.
“I told you I was coming back.”
