Page 97 of When Death Whispers

Herlust.

Herdesire.

The heat of her pleasure?—

It sustains me in ways I never imagined, strengthens me beyond the way her terror never could.

And lately, I have tasted it, savored it.

Not just from her. Fromhim.The human. That stupid, trembling boy. His tether feeds me like a vein pressed against my lips. Every time he touches her—every time he dreams of her, moans for her—I drink from him. Slowly. Quietly.

And it’s been enough…

Almost.

But not quite.

Because to truly break through, to shatter the light that keeps me at bay—I need more. A spark. A burst of grief, lust, and terror combined. A kill.

Two should do.

A slow smile curls my lips.

Rädslakorcu and the human may believe they have claimed her—but they do not understand what they hold. OnlyIunderstand the depths of what she can give. OnlyIcan take her as she is meant to be taken.

No more waiting.

No more restraint.

The Evergloom is waiting.

She will scream for me.

She willbeg.

She will break—and be rebuilt in my name.

And when she has been stripped of all she clings to, when she lies raw and broken, there will be no more denial.

Only submission.

Only surrender.

Onlymine.

36

The scentof warm sugar and vanilla curls in the air as I step into the bakery, the familiar hum of industrial ovens and the soft whir of mixers setting the usual late-night rhythm.

I’m exhausted, running on fumes. Not just from lack of sleep—but from what that sleep wasinterruptedby. A golden boy who kisses like a sinner and touches like a prayer… and a demon who doesn’t understand personal space or mercy.

My body still aches in places I didn’t know could ache, the soreness clinging like a secret. Like something I shouldn’t still be thinking about but can’t stop replaying on a loop behind my eyes.

I roll my shoulders, trying to shake it off. I need to work. I need to focus. I need to not think about Hudson’s mouth or Rad’s claws or?—

Nope. Not going there. Not at work.

But right as I round the counter, I spot someone else already inside the bakery—and all the warm, lingering thoughts screech to a halt.

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