Page 80 of Spit

“It’s beautiful,” I told him as my eyes tracked the angels shooting across the sky.

“Yes. We were.” He sighed.

I didn’t know what awaited me the following day, but I woke up with a sense of foreboding that made me want to curl under the covers and write the day off from the first minute.

I half expected Legion to burst into the room, cursed and ravenous, but that never happened.

The smallest part of me, the part that imagined what it would be like to win the lottery or if I could afford Invisalign, wanted to know what it would be like to have Legion. To make him mine.

My fingers twitched, and I gripped the blanket, closing my eyes and shutting the thoughts down cold.

It would be easy to fall into the rabbit hole. Power was seductive. It would be so easy to give in. To make an army of amorous men that would do anything for me. Buy whatever I wanted. Men that would wear a collar and leash if I wanted them to and walk on all fours like my personal puppy.

But that kind of power had a dark side.

I didn’t want to be in charge of anyone. I didn’t want the responsibility of caring for individuals who had their will stolen from them.

They would love the curse. They would be addicted to my spit. My kisses. My sweat, blood, and tears, but notme.

I took a shower, dressing in one of the outfits that Trey had bought me. Lucky jeans and a grey stone-washed tank so soft it felt like I’d had it for years. Docs and my leather jacket.

I paused at the door, certain that I was forgetting something.

My eyes caught on the box on the bedside table.

The null blade—Asteroth’s tooth.

I wasn’t taking chances. I opened the box, studying the blade that sat on a mound of red velvet. Its presence was like a great sucking void.

Did my presence feel like that to other magic users? I wondered. It felt like a black hole threatening to engulf the world in a blink.

I reached for the weapon, allowing my hand to hover over the sickle blade, curved and black—the size of my hand. It swallowed the light and looked even more formidable up close than it had behind glass at the auction house.

My shadow peeled itself from my heels and raced up my body, curling around my forearm like a black mamba. It slithered down, turning my skin black until my fingertips were stained as my shadow reached for the weapon.

It didn’t feel greedy or hungry. No, my shadow was curious. It tasted the blade, nipping at the null shield that pulsed from the weapon before slithering back down my body and tucking itself into my real shadow.

“You wouldn’t let this kill me, would you?” I asked my shadowy friend, chuckling at my own silliness. “Who would feed you if I was dead?”

My shadow didn’t answer.

I had felt helpless last night, pressed down by Legion’s weight. My curse might not have affectedhim, but I couldn’t take any chances. I didn’t know if my magic was on the fritz, so a knife would have to do.

I remembered that I had tucked my holster in one of the drawers the night before—and I put it on and slid the blade into its sheath before I could second guess myself.

I would have cut a hole in my pocket and concealed the weapon on my hip, but the blade was curved and wouldn’t fit in the holster, let alone be able to come out of my pocket without ripping the fabric.

I sighed. “How am I going to carry you?”

The blade, as if reacting to my words, melted.

Eyes wide, I lifted the box. I cursed a dozen times before shaking the box until the velvet tumbled to the ground.

Fuck. What had I done?

I knew how much that blade cost, and it had disappeared like ice on a hot day.

My shadow waved, drawing my attention.

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