Page 38 of Chaos Carnival

I turned to snap at him but stopped, the sharp retort dying in my throat. In the blood-tinted moonlight filtering through the window, the dark veins of poison stood out stark against his pale skin. His normally golden complexion had taken on an ashen cast that made my stomach clench. His eyes met mine, fear and raw vulnerability he so rarely allowed anyone to witness showing through the humor he'd been wielding like a shield.

“Finally getting me naked again, huh?” His smirk crumbled into a grimace of pain. “Not exactly how I pictured it.”

“Shut up and strip.” I yanked my shirt over my head, keeping my back turned. “Before I change my mind and let you die.”

“Promises, promises.” Fabric rustled behind me, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “Fuck, that hurts.”

I turned, trying to ignore how my hands shook as I helped him out of his clothes. The poison had spread across his chest in intricate patterns, like a spiderweb.

“Under the covers.” I slid in beside him, pulling the silk sheets up to our shoulders. “Don't make this weird.”

“Me? Never.” His arms wrapped around me, drawing me closer until we were chest to chest, legs tangled together. “You're the one who got us a honeymoon suite.”

“I will end you.” But I moved closer, telling myself it was just for the ritual. His heart beat erratically against my palm.

“Already dying, witch.” His fingers traced contours on my back, leaving trails of ice in their wake.

“You're not going anywhere.” I grabbed the book, trying to focus on the words through the distracting press of his body. “Now shut up and let me save your ungrateful ass.”

His laugh vibrated through my chest. “Yes ma'am.” His lips brushed my temple, gentle despite everything. “My ungrateful ass is yours.”

I began the incantation, ancient words falling from my lips and the first brush of enchantment felt like static, crackling between our pressed skin.

“Your accent is terrible,” Maverick mumbled into my collarbone.

“Do you want to do this yourself?” I dug my nails into his shoulder, earning a hiss that wasn't entirely from pain.

“Just trying to—fuck!” His body went rigid as the first wave hit, demon magic colliding with the ritual's. Dark energy surged through us both, tasting of copper and embers.

“Breathe.” I shifted closer, ignoring how right it felt. “Let it flow.”

“Easy for you to say.” His fingers flexed, brushing my spine. “You're not the one being unmade.”

The book hummed between us, its alchemy twining with Baphomet's protection in ways that set my hair on end. Where they met, sparks of power skittered across our skin like lightning.

“This isn't—” Maverick's voice broke as another wave hit. “This isn't how it usually works.”

“Usually?” I tried to keep my tone light despite the way his pain echoed through our bond. “Do you make a habit of getting poisoned and crawling into bed with witches?”

“Only the pretty ones.” His grin dissolved into a grimace. “Which is you, by the way.”

“Charming.” But I held him tighter as tremors wracked his frame. The poison was retreating, but something else was taking its place. Something that glowed with unholy light beneath his skin.

“Tess.” My name came out broken, desperate. His walls crumbled, letting me into everything he'd been hiding—fear, desire, a bone-deep loneliness that matched my own. “I can't—“

“I know.” I pressed my forehead to his, letting my own barriers fall. “I know.”

The magic surged between us, demon and divine, witch and seraph. It felt like breaking and remaking something fundamental in its wake. I tried not to worry, to just trust in the process. But it was terrifying to wonder if we’d relied on the wrong people.

Then it settled into a steady thrum, like electricity humming beneath my skin. Maverick's temperature slowly rose from deathly cold to merely chilly, though his arms stayed locked around me as if afraid I'd slip away. I relaxed a smidge.

“You’re starting to feel less like a corpse.” I traced one of the fading poison lines on his chest, watching it retreat under my touch.

“Disappointed?” His voice was stronger now, though still rough around the edges. “Here I thought you liked me better when I couldn't talk back.”

“You never stopped talking back.” But I didn't move away, even as the initial urgency faded. The connection between us felt rawer now, stripped of its usual barriers. Every brush of skin sent echoes of sensation bouncing between us.

“You're quiet.” His fingers drew idly on my back, each touch sending sparks through our heightened bond. “Having second thoughts?”

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