Page 131 of When Death Whispers

“All of you,” I whisper. “Your body wrapped in my shadows. Your voice whispering my name. Your soul surrendered freely.”

Another beat of silence. Her eyes drift shut.

“And in return,” I say, “I will give you everything. Warmth. Rest. Sustenance. Protection. I will feed you. Clothe you. Keep you from pain. You will want for nothing while you are mine.”

Her eyes open again—slowly. Searching.

She doesn't flinch.

She doesn’t run.

She simply tilts her head, considers me, and whispers,

“…Is that all?”

A smile tugs at my lips—slow, reverent.

“Yes.”

She steps closer.

“Deal,” she murmurs.

Then, a flicker of fire in her gaze. Something deliciously sharp.

“But, Steorfan—Steo?”

She meets my eyes, determination making hers glow brighter, and a foreign warmth spreads throughout my chest at the familiarity with which she gives me a nickname.

“We play by my rules.”

My shadows ripple outward like a pulse, bending toward her without hesitation—answering her before I can even find the words.

And I am completely, gloriously undone.

48

I don’t knowwhat changed—whether it was me finally surrendering to the inevitable, or him realizing I wouldn’t break unless I chose to—but something is different now.

He listens when I speak.

Steorfan, for all his power and ancient, bone-deep hunger, no longer feels like a shadow pressing in on my every breath. He feels like a storm that waits at my edges, humming with restraint, his darkness folding around me only whenIallow it.

Using his true name anchors him. Makes him less a monster and more... something real. Something I can touch. Something that touches back—softly.

And so far, he’s obeyed every boundary I’ve set.

That earns him something akin to trust.

His shadows move over my skin again, under my clothes—slow, reverent. They don’t grasp. They cradle. They pulse with a kind of quiet longing, like they know how close I am to unraveling and want to hold me there, just long enough to remember what it feels like to choose this.

Choosehim.

They glide along the curve of my waist, over and under the fabric of my work clothes, the inside of my thighs, sparking fire low in my belly and shivers up my spine. My body responds before I can stop it—core tightening, breath stalling, pleasure pooling deep and low.

It’s too much.

Too gentle.

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