Page 137 of When Death Whispers

But he’s not done.

His thrusts grow wild, shadows clenching around me, his body going tight.

He’s right there.

I moan, desperate, reckless. “Yesss, come for me, Bone Daddy.”

His entire body jerks.

His shadows explode.

The pleasure that rips through him sends a wave of heat flooding inside me, his hands locking me down, his growl breaking off into a sharp exhale.

And then?—

The Evergloom reacts.

His shadows surge outward—then suddenly collapse, bursting into a rain of dust, like they simply couldn’t hold their form anymore. Fine particles drift through the air, landing on my skin, covering my hair, dusting both of us head to toe.

Steo stiffens.

His arms lock around me, supporting my weight where the shadows were before. My legs remain wrapped around him, his cock still buried inside me.

We both stay still, panting, bodies wrecked. Well, I’m wrecked, I have no idea what Steo is feeling.

My mind is still catching up, still floating somewhere between bliss and exhaustion, but Steo?—

Steo is staring at the dust coating his arms. And I realize what has him so shocked. His shadows—his dark, abyssal, death-born shadows did not turn to black ash.

No.

The dust covering everything is bright pink.

We stare at each other, wide-eyed.

“What the f?—”

“What in the fiery pits of hel?—”

We both exclaim at the same time?—

Just as the glowing veins of the ceiling flare bright pink.

Of course they do.

49

Pink.

The Evergloom glowspink.

Which is batshit crazy, considering this place is supposed to be dark. Bleak. Horrifying. Not… whatever the fuck this is. It’s called the Evergloom, for god’s sake. You’d think that would mean the whole vibe here would stay nice and consistently nightmare-inducing, but no. Apparently, someone just cracked a glowstick over hell and now everything pulses with this eerie, unnatural neon light.

And weirdly enough? It doesn’t make it less terrifying.

It makes it so much worse.

The sky goes pink first, the inky darkness splitting apart in veins of soft, pulsing light. Like the realm itself is hemorrhaging some kind of unnatural power. The glow stretches downward—along the trees, through the roots—threading through every inch of this cursed place like veins under rotted skin.

---