Page 6 of Eternal Mate

“Practicing what?”

My brow furrowed as a wicked grin crossed his face. Before I realized his intentions, he hoisted me up; my back pressed against the cold tiles of the shower wall. My squeal at the chill made him laugh again, and then his mouth found mine.

How you’re going to say my name when I finally take you to bed.

I shuddered when his voice coiled into my head. Oh, that was smooth.

I moaned, and his laughter earned him a shiver for his efforts.

3

UNANSWERED QUESTIONS

SARIEL

I woke with a jerk, letting out a soft hiss of alarm.

It was too dark, and I was tangled in a mess of sheets that seemed keen on keeping me from escaping. Aria didn’t even flinch as I hurriedly freed myself and rolled out of the bed, bracing against the footboard with a slow exhale.

I needed light. The stumbling beat of my heart was making me feel sick.

The hallway was just as dark as I stumbled out of the bedroom and towards the living room, grabbing my discarded clothes from the night before off the floor. As I fumbled with the dusty lamp beside the couch, I had the sense not to start throwing on lights willy-nilly. Our compound was masked by trees during the day and we’d managed to block most of the windows, but if there was a lone, beaming window cutting through the night, there was no telling who would show up.

I collapsed onto the couch and tried to breathe through the flashes of memories that had chased me to the waking world. My mind was a chaotic jumble of fragmented images and emotions.

That dream had been vivid—unsettling—and now it clung to my thoughts like a dark fog. I could still hear the distant echo of a scream, the taste of fear lingering on my tongue. Sweat beaded on my forehead, despite the coolness of the room.

I’d been able to block out most of what had happened to me while I was in Hell. Mostly just because I refused to let Lucifer dig his claws into me and drag me down before it was my time, but also because those days of torture haunted me in the night. I refused to acknowledge the damage during the day as well.

Instead, I looked around the dimly lit room, searching for a distraction. When we’d made ourselves at home in these apartments, there were already some basic necessities tucked away, and Ashe had been happy to have a reason to go sneaking about the nearby cities for things we didn’t have.

The canvases and paints sitting against the wall were an unexpected gift from the dark-haired man; I suspected it was because he was hoping I’d let him buy some of my work.

After tearing open the plastic, I ran my fingers against the textured surface before migrating to the kitchen’s tiled floor. I doubted that Aria would appreciate me getting paint all over our very fluffy cream carpet.

I grabbed a brush and began mixing colors on the palette, letting the rhythmic motion of the strokes soothe my racing mind. The smell of acrylic paint filled the air, cutting through the residual fear that clung to me. With each stroke, the memories of my torment in Hell began to fade into the background, replaced by the calm focus of creating art.

Lost in the world I was creating on the canvas, I didn’t notice Aria enter the room until she spoke, her voice filled with concern.

“Are you alright?” she asked. I could feel her gaze like a physical touch as she looked me over. “Another nightmare? Or… a vision?”

I shook my head, not trusting my voice yet, and continued to paint.

Finally, she walked over, her bare feet silent. She sat down next to me, her presence a comforting anchor in the chaos of my mind. It was strange—I almost felt like I was floating as the painting began to take shape.

“I’m here,” she whispered, her fingers gently tracing the edge of the canvas. “You don’t have to face it alone.”

I realized I was painting something prophetic as she settled in with me.

Shades of red and black were twisting together across the canvas; runes I couldn’t make out, much less understand. This was the most coherent I’d ever felt when the urge to paint hit me, and I wondered if I was slowly gaining control of the ability, or if it was Aria’s sleepy presence that was keeping me present instead of letting me be swept away.

Then again, she’d been there for some of the others, too, and I’d still gotten swept away in the haze. Maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“That looks like Lucifer’s throne room,” she whispered, making me grimace. “Why are there chains? Do you know?”

I never did know what these meant. She must have been listening in on the bond, because she nodded as if I’d answered her.

It was no clearer than the last one I’d painted. More chains and shadowed bodies—with Lucifer at the center, hands outstretched. Aria’s brow furrowed as she leaned over it like any of it could be deciphered into something actually useful.

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