Page 20 of When Death Whispers

“I’ll just stay here until you fall asleep,” I mumble stubbornly, my voice already heavy with drowsiness. “Make sure... you’re okay.”

But really I’m just craving company, even if I’m not used to it and have no idea how to behave with someone in my space.

He doesn’t respond, but I catch his faint smile in my peripheral vision before my eyes drift shut.Just a few minutes, I promise myself.Just until I know he’s asleep...

But exhaustion quickly overtakes me, my mind slipping easily into darkness.

For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel safe, wrapped in a warmth that has nothing to do with blankets or lights.

6

She smells like orange blossoms,this little human, a scent I would normally describe as nauseatingly sweet, but surprisingly addictive the longer I breathe her in. Especially when it sharpens with fear. Then it turns bright and citrusy. I can taste it in the air around her, humming across my tongue, feeding the endless hunger clawing at my insides..

I wonder what she’s afraid of.

I could dive into her mind—unwrap her deepest, darkest fears like little gifts—but where’s the fun in that?

It’s been centuries since I was last summoned. Longer still since I was tethered to a human. And now, with Parker’s accidental little blood offering, I’m back in the land of the living.

Finally. Freedom.

No more Bleak. No more eternal monotony. No more barely scraping by on weak-minded souls. This world is bursting with sound and color, with heartbeat and heat. And her. My Beholden.

Since the moment she summoned me, I’ve been hiding in the corners of the room, in the shadows, observing, learning, absorbing all of the simple very human things that consist of my Beholden’s existence.

Of all the humans I’ve had the pleasure of feeding on, I’m pleased to find my Beholdendifferent. Her fear, her lust—they’re both so rich, so intoxicating. They curl around me, feeding me in a way none of the others ever have. It’s not just her fear that excites me; it’s the way her body betrays her, the pulse of her desire mingling with the panic in her veins.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was some kind of angel. All pale hair and quiet resilience. But no—angels are void. Empty of emotion. And my Parker is a storm of them. She drips feeling, burns with it. I want to taste every last one.

I watch as her human male friend carries a sleeping Parker to a bedroom, taking care to deposit her gently on the bed, gazing at her like she may be the most precious thing he’s ever had the privilege to hold.

And that’s when I decide: this one can stay. The boy, Hobsum or Oddson or something equally stupid. His fear is delicious. Heavy and real and laced with guilt. I could feast on that for days. A demon’s gotta eat.

Hobsum leaves the room and I stay, watching over my Beholden’s sleeping form, memorizing every freckle, counting every lash, listening to every breath… that is until I feel a disturbance in the energy surrounding the house.

I follow the shadows of the house, slither outside and come face to face with none other than Steorfan, the Death Devourer himself, lurking in the shadows underneath the porch of the house.

“Well, well,” I purr, stepping into view, claws curled, tail flicking lazily. “It’s been ages, Steo. And might I say… you look like shit.”

The Death Devourer gives me a growl from the shadows, his shape not quite staying uniform but rather more smoke-like, his skull face occasionally peeking out.

“Take your leave, Rädslakorcu,”he rasps.“Their deaths are mine.”

“Tsk, tsk,” I tut. “Full names now? How rude. You used to have better manners. Remember the old days? You and I working in tandem—me, terrifying the villagers; you, gobbling them up like grim candy. Simpler times.”

Another growl, deeper now. Desperate. I smell starvation. He hasn’t fed properly in a while. Surely there are plenty of deaths in a mortal realm for him to collect?

“Sun’s up, old friend,” I say, cocking my head as I eye the shadows coiled beneath the porch. “You’re stuck down here till nightfall. What are you doing under my Beholden’s house, hmm?”

A flicker of movement. A twitch in the dark.

“My sweet Snow Pea…”he mutters.

I go still. Every muscle locks tight. My nostrils flare.

“What did you say?”

He shifts again, smoke undulating as if stirred by windless hunger.“Snow Pea. Must taste her. Must have her. Her death…”

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