Page 162 of When Death Whispers

As absurd as it seems, I believe her. Especially if it brings a bit of violence to this otherwise cathartic ritual. After all, this tiny mortal has already taught me the beauty of things I never thought possible. She’s shown me moments without blood or terror. Silly comforts. Strange affection. Foolish joy. Quiet belonging.

Love.

I was made for endings.

She taught me how to begin.

Epilogue

I still don’t getthe obsession humans have with this bitter drink.

I stare down at the steaming mug, half-convinced Hudson has tricked me into drinking poison disguised as routine. But Parker swears by it, and lately, anything she requests feels dangerously easy to agree to, especially when she’s found this new skill of sending sexy thoughts my way to distract me. She’s becoming good at reading my intentions like an open book. Too good. I’m at a clear disadvantage now.

Hudson calls it “going soft.” I call it strategic compliance. Especially if it earns me extra moans and gasps from her lips.

Soft footsteps draw my attention, and I glance over to see Parker leaning against the kitchen doorway. She’s in one of Hudson’s sweaters, sleeves hanging off her hands, silver hair tousled from sleep. She smiles, and something inside me shifts. I find myself drawn in, warmth blossoming in my chest.

“Morning, Rad,” she says softly, eyes bright with amusement as she makes her way to my side.

The urge to lay her onto the table and push my cock into her warmth overtakes me for a moment but instead I slide the mug toward her, letting my clawed fingers brush hers lightly as she takes it. Her touch sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.

She just woke up after another night of all of us drinking in her lust and desire, pulling moan after moan from her lips, perhaps waiting just a little before claiming her again so her tiny tight body doesn’t break apart is more appropriate. But damn all the realms if my cock will listen to reason

She smirks at me, having read my intentions as clear as day, but takes a sip from her mug instead and moans, loudly, the veins of power in the walls of our burrow pulsing lightly in echo. “You’re getting good at making coffee, you know.”

“I have good motivation,” I respond, unable to resist returning her smile. “Can’t have my favorite human grumpy in the morning.”

She laughs softly, and the sound melts the last of my carefully maintained barriers. She leans closer, her shoulder gently pressing against me. Her scent—warm, citrusy, entirely Parker, but a powerful edge of Gloom energy—wraps around me, comforting and addictive.

“You spoil me,” she teases, taking another sip from the mug and giving a content sigh.

“Maybe you deserve it,” I say quietly, meeting her gaze with open affection. Her eyes widen just a fraction, and her thoughts convey surprise that I voiced the thought aloud, but the warmth that fills her expression and travels down our tether is worth the slip of vulnerability.

“Rad…” she whispers, fingers gently resting on my arm. “Thank you. Not just for the coffee—though it’s pretty great—but for everything. For staying, for choosing us.”

“I never stood a chance,” I reply, my voice soft, sincere. “From the moment you summoned me, you had me wrapped around your little finger. I just didn’t realize it until later. Besides, There’s no fucking way i’m going back to the Bleak. I no longer have use for the souls there, you keep me nourished and satiated.”

I graze her neck with my fangs, right where I keep leaving marks every time they fade the tiniest bit, and the intoxicating scent of her desire spreads around us, filling my every breath with citrus richness, making me lightheaded with want. Her lust hums through the bond, making mine respond instantly, and Steo and Hudson’s joining in from wherever they are, like we are all answering to her siren call.

She beams at me, radiant and beautiful, her smile lighting up every dark corner of my soul. Her soft laughter is my favorite sound in any realm.

Before I can convince her to let me feast on her tender flesh, Hudson and Steo’s voices echo loudly from the hallway, shattering our quiet moment—but somehow, I don’t mind.

Hudson stops when he sees Parker leaning comfortably into my side, an exaggerated smirk spreading across his face.

“Look at you,” he says, grin widening. “You look positively domestic, Rad. What happened to the terrifying beast I met?”

“Careful, Hobson,” I growl, though the threat is empty. “I can still bite.” That statement earns me a delicious playback of Parker’s lust-filled memories, of my fangs marking her lovely pale skin.

But Steo’s shadows interrupt them by slithering curiously towards the coffee pot, pink tips pulsing excitedly.

“No,” I groan... “We are not doing a repeat of the Great Spill. Teach them control, Devourer.”

“They are learning, Nightmare,” Steo responds dryly, but his voice holds unmistakable amusement. “Besides, they no longer listen to me, anyway.”

Hudson laughs, guiding the shadows patiently. Parker chuckles softly beside me, and warmth spreads through my chest at the easy familiarity we’ve built.

“Admit it, Rad,” Parker whispers, eyes sparkling as she nudges me gently, sending a naughty image of her riding my face while holding my horns, to rile me up. “You love this.”

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