Page 25 of Wicked Chains
So why does it feel so hollow? Why doIfeel hollow?
"What?" she asks, noticing my thousand yard stare.
"Just making sure we're alone." I lightly follow the curve of her cheek with my fingertips, still amazed that I can touch her at all after a century of not being able to touch anyone. "No Ash or his lackeys."
She makes a face. "Gross. Don't remind me." She unlocks her door and pushes it open, tugging me inside after her. "Come on, ghost boy. I'm not ready to let you go yet."
Her room is cozy, the space now filled with little touches that are uniquely Rose, like the library book on the nightstand, a sweater tossed over the desk chair, a half-empty cup of cold coffee.
I watch as she moves around the room, picking up clothes, straightening things. Her movements are slow, she’s clearly tired. Returning me took a lot out of her. Not to mention our, uh, activities afterward.
"You're exhausted," I say.
"I'm fine." She stifles a yawn that makes her a liar. But what a beautiful, compelling liar she is. And who am I to talk? "Just need to wash up."
She disappears into the bathroom, and I hear water running. While she's gone, I look around her room, at all the small details of her life. The way she lines up her shoes by the door, the collection of smooth stones on her windowsill, the Post-it notes stuck to her mirror. Each thing is a bit of her, a part of the whole that I've somehow fallen for despite all my attempts to keep my distance.
When she comes back to the bedroom, she's changed into an oversized t-shirt that falls to her thighs, her face scrubbed pink. Her eyes are heavy with fatigue, but she smiles when she sees me still there.
"I was afraid you’d leave," she admits.
"Not if I can help it." I never want to leave her again. Which, considering I don’t think Ash had any intention of bringing me back, might be a problem.
She climbs into bed, pulling back the covers in an invitation. I don’t hesitate for a second, lying down beside her, fully clothed but not caring. She snuggles against me, her body finding its familiar place nestled close to me.
"Stay until I fall asleep?" she asks.
"I'll stay," I promise, and press a kiss to her forehead.
Her breathing deepens within minutes, exhaustion claiming her quickly. I watch the flutter of her eyelashes against her cheeks, the slight part of her lips. She looks younger than her twenty-one years. For the first time, it occurs to me that Rose will age, but that I will stay forever this age. That is, assuming the Blood Moon Coven doesn’t have the same life-sucking intentions that the Crescent Moon Coven did.
This is what I wanted to tell her. What I needed to say before we made love, before things became even more complicated than they already were. But I couldn't bring myself to ruin that moment, couldn't bear to see the look on her face when I told her the truth.
I’m a liar.
I used her.
I betrayed her trust, and I can’t forgive myself, so how can I expect it from her?
And there’s something else now, another truth that I can barely bring myself to think about.
The truth that I'm fading.
At first, I thought it was just disorientation from whatever Ash did to banish me. But it's more than that. The Crescent Moon Coven is gone, the very people responsible for my death, the ones whose betrayal I've spent a century plotting revenge against. They were my tether, my unfinished business, the reason my spirit remained bound to this place.
And now they're gone.
I lift my hand in the darkness of her room, examining it. For a moment, it seems solid, then it happens again. My fingers disappear. It's brief, just a few seconds, but it's happening more frequently. Each time, it takes more concentration to pull myself back.
I'm untethering. Coming loose from this plane of existence. Without vengeance to anchor me, my spirit is beginning to drift toward whatever comes next. The irony isn't lost on me. I've spent a century plotting and dreaming of the CrescentMoon's downfall, and now that it's happened, it will cost me my existence. Worse, it will cost me Rose.
Beautiful, fierce, impossible Rose. The only person who can touch me, who can see past the ghost to whatever remains of the man I once was.
No. It's not fair. None of this is fair.
I extract myself carefully from her sleeping body, moving away from the bed to stand beside it. Another dimming, my legs vanish briefly, then return. The sensation is strange, almost like part of me is already somewhere else, being pulled in two directions at once.
"Damn it," I mutter, concentrating until I feel solid again.
