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He kisses me from that awkward angle, needy and breathless. My mind flickers in a near-unconscious state as I surface from the agonizing pleasure. My body tightens in an overwhelming ache as I come, riding wave after wave of perfect rapture.

Orpheus, I think I cry his name.

“How many have brought you to climax like this, better than you thought was possible?”

I come undone against him, my breath coming in small gasps. He is solid behind me, holding me steady, a gorgeous anchor to keep me from falling forever. I think of all thosenights I’ve spent with men — some I thought I loved, most I hardly knew. Their fumbling fingers, their messy kisses. The sex I thought would make me whole and the cold emptiness that followed.

Orpheus leans over me, pressing his lips to my temple. His silver-bright hair tickles my sensitive skin. Every muscle in my body is lax. My thoughts come slowly, trapped in syrupy bliss.

“None,” I answer. “You’re the only one.”

He smiles against me, face nestled in the crook of my neck and shoulder. His cock is still inside me, his fingers trailing delicate lines down my belly. Already, the flame of need blooms again inside me like a lit match.

“Good,” Orpheus murmurs. “Good. You’ll need no one else after me.”

16

I waketo the sound of the wind. It shrieks at the windows, and rain skitters sideways across the glass. It’s freezing in my room. I sit up in the dark, lit only by the city lights outside. I’m alone in my bed. What time is it? Memories from last night rush to the forefront: Orpheus inside me, all around me, touching me, speaking to me softly until I was limp and pliant.

Ian, missing.

Eros, violently exterminated.

The vision of Eros’s broken body grips me, and I throw my arms over my eyes, groaning. God, if only it could all be nothing but a fucked up dream. Orpheus is gone, but I know from the soreness between my legs, the dried sweat on my skin, that last night was all too real. And lying here feeling sorry for myself won’t change anything.

Still naked, I roll out of bed and go to the bathroom. I run the tap and splash cold water on my face, relishing the soothing chill.

“Don’t be a pussy, Katherine,” I say, but it’s barely more than a whisper.

Lifting my head to face the mirror, I’m greeted with the reflection of a girl I’m not sure I know anymore. Nothing aboutmy outward appearance has changed. My hair is a mess, sleep-mussed and tangled with sex. But instead of a fringe science blogger with a penchant for bad choices, I see a girl who has witnessed things she’ll never forget. Things she wishes she could scrape from her brain like cancerous tissue.

I pull my hair into a bun, tucking stray strands behind my ears. Then I lock eyes with myself in the mirror. “I’m leaving,” I say aloud. And I mean it.

But what about Orpheus? My heart betrays me, making me hesitate.

I turn away from the mirror. Grabbing whatever clothes are at the top of my duffle, I get dressed breathlessly. Then I pack up my toiletries, shove them in the duffle, zip it shut, and heft it onto my shoulder. Forget Orpheus. I’m getting out of here, and that’s that. I’m never coming back to this house of horrors that sways among the storm clouds. I’m going back to a world that makes sense. A life that makes sense, a Katherine Fox who makes sense.

But my heart is already beginning to fracture at the thought of never seeing Orpheus again.

I jog down the spiral staircase. Unsurprisingly, the penthouse is empty. These assholes keep disappearing on me. Afraid that if I stop moving, I’ll change my mind, I go straight to the hall closet and yank on my trench, then my boots, lacing them up messily. My hands are shaking. The wind doesn’t relent. It howls and howls until the building itself sounds like it’s about to fly apart in the gale.

When I’m fully dressed, duffle in hand, I speed walk across the living area, pointedly not looking out the window. I’m still utterly alone. A knot settles in my throat as I stop before the elevator.

A strong gust of wind drives freezing rain against the window, startling me. But I still refuse to look. No, just go, I tellmyself. I exhale slowly, counting down from ten in a sad attempt to soothe my anxiety. No matter what lies beyond that rain-blurred window, what buildings break the clouds and watch like blackened teeth, they won’t exist outside this place. They can’t.

I press the button to call the elevator.

The wind lets up for a moment as I wait. The rain stops pounding against the glass. And in that breath of quiet, I hear it: a distant moan. A cry of pain or fear.

My heart stops.

Then the wind picks up, and the sound is gone, washed away by the shrieking gale and the drum of rain.

The elevator dings. The door slides open, inviting me in.

Come on, let’s go, the empty elevator seems to say.Forget all of this.

And God, I want to.

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