Page 69 of Corrupt Shadows

I retreat to my own mind, letting her explore her new reality without interference. It can be chilling to see the world moving on without you, but for so long, all I’ve been able to do is watch.

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Evie curls into a ball on the farthest end of the blue-leather sofa in the opulent train car. Her form lures my eyes to trace the outline of her curves as the soaked clothes draping her body leave nothing to the imagination. My little witch’s skin is usually a gorgeous alabaster, perfect and ready for me to mark, but now the ashen color is stretching too tightly on her bones. I grind my molars together; she is not caring for herself, letting those fucking pills destroy her body, abusing them to cage her magic.

I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling with a deep sigh. Evie is finally in my domain, but instead of the relief I expected to feel, a heavy ball of anxiety forms in my gut. I turn my head to the side, still resting on the couch, to look at her.

She’s already fast asleep, her breathing steady. Good, she needs the rest. I lose myself in watching the rise and fall of her chest. Its hypnotic movements draw me into a place of calm I’ve only found with her. Who knew watching her sleep could be so cathartic but also maddeningly torturous?

I pillow my head with my hands, my elbows splaying out to the sides, and my thoughts drift to my brother Ezra. It’s just like him to come in and turn a perfectly good stalking into a clusterfuck. There is no one in this life that I hate more than him. I curl my arms around my head and squeeze my eyes shut. A bead of sweat trickles down my spine, and my skin crawls. Godsdamn him. I finally have the key to my freedom, and Ezra wants to rip her from my fingers.

I bolt upright. No. He will not take her from me. No one will. I will bleed the life from her veins, then mine, before I allow that to happen. I will always follow her into the dark.

I groan, scrubbing my hand across my forehead. Why does it have to be her? She is everything I fucking despise. She’s a witch, and her traitorous coven branded her my eternal enemy. Yet the temptation to spread her thighs wide and nail her to the couch with my cock seers through my veins. My head throbs, hovering on the cusp between a headache and migraine. I rub my temples and shake my head. Evie wouldn’t last for more than a few seconds if I unleashed my true demonic nature on her. She’s far too soft and delicate. Breakable.

I scooch closer to her and trail a claw down the back of her thigh. Her tiny body shudders and she moans lightly. The sound draws me to her blue-tinged lips. Damn, that shade is so attractive on Evie, but not when it isn’t from my hand cutting off her airway.

I stand, then snag a soft, fluffy paisley blanket from the cabinet secured to the wall above the windows. The edges of the fabric snap quietly as I shake it out, then float it atop her trembling body. The soft fibers brush against my fingers as I tuck the blanket in around her limbs and under her chin, ensuring no heat escapes. I grab another blanket for a pillow. My little witch nuzzles her cheek against my palm when I slide my hand under the side of her face to lift her head and place the pillow beneath it.

My heart seizes within its bone confines. I hold my breath and squeeze my eyes shut. Everything within me urges me to sever these feelings—to snap her fucking neck now and be done with it. Instead, I brush my knuckle along her cheekbone and bend to place a featherlight kiss on the tip of her nose. Her face scrunches adorably.

“Godsdamn,” I groan softly, then blow out a breath past my lips. My obsession with her has gone too fucking far, but my plans have not changed. They can’t. I will not remain stuck in this place for a moment longer than I have to. Through her, I’ve had another taste of the Human Realm, and I crave to reap destruction and chaos once more.

The image of Evie drenched in blood and moaning beneath me in her office flashes across my mind. My teeth sink into my lower lip to stop the grin from spreading across my face. There isn’t much left to do before she is fully corrupted. I look forward to it… to viewing the depraved masterpiece I’ve created.

What would it be like to drag her to Hell with me someday? She would look so lovely in its violet flames. I sigh deeply and stare out at the rain-soaked landscape. I’m not afraid to admit I’m homesick. There is a special place in my heart for Hell and the celebrations steeped in unimaginable sins, depravity, and violence. But when I return, blood will rain upon Hell’s inhabitants as I hunt every single creature who lifted a finger against me and aided my brothers and their vendetta.

My inner madness squeezes my mind in a vice. My skull explodes with pain as the pressure increases. I don’t think my little witch would mind if I spilled a small bit of her blood. Maybe a pint? Just enough to ease the desperate ache clenching in my center.

No. I force the maddening thoughts into the back of my mind and set them aflame. Instead, euphoria cascades over me as I stab a claw into my wrist and drag it toward my elbow. “Fuuuck.” I hiss at the pain but moan when the pleasure of my overflowing well of emotions releases. The coppery tinge of my blood seems to stick to the back of my throat as my cock swells.

I’ve seen her covered in blood more than once, but I wonder how fucking incredible would she look covered in mine.

I stand and pace in front of the sofa, the deep cut dripping gore to the carpeted floor. Evie snores once before settling back into a deep slumber. Why the hell is that so cute? Shit. These fucking feelings are taking over every atom in my body, and I loathe her for it.

I will claim her in every way possible, if only so no one else can have her. She can hate me at all she wants. In fact, I hope she does. It will only make me crave her more. I lift my arm, then tilt my head and watch the wound stitch itself together. I run my tongue along the gash, licking the remnants of my blood. The iron flavor coats my tongue, and my balls throb with need. I grip my length through my pants while fighting the temptation to jerk off and come all over my little witch while she sleeps.

Patience, Lorcan, I scold myself. I stretch my arms over my head, flattening my palms against the ceiling and loosening the residual soreness. Damn, every muscle aches. Rescuing my little witch, and the exhausting effort it took to make her keep walking to this goddamn train, has ruined me. I can easily fit the top of her skull in my large, tattooed hand.

It’s been an exceedingly long time since I’ve had to walk any such distance. My lip curls, and a growl vibrates in my chest. Fucking disgusting, the king of demons being forced to lower to her level. Sure, I could’ve thrown her over my shoulder and shadow-walked us right to the doors of the manor, but what would Evie learn from that experience? My bodily discomforts aside, I endeavor to make her life as miserable as I possibly can. If trudging through puddles with demons shrieking all around her does so, then so be it.

Evie whimpers in her sleep, and her legs twitch, throwing off the blanket. I stoop to pick it up and wander back to her. My gaze roams her face. Her brows are drawn in, and her cheek twitches seemly at random. Mmm, a nightmare? I fight with myself on my best course of action. Do I soak in her beautifully distraught emotions playing across her face and body? Or do I walk into her nightmare and fuck her so hard, she comes in real life…

I exhale sharply through my nose. Fucking temptress.

I gently scoop her off the sofa and cradle her in my lap. I secure the blanket around her. The breath strangles in my lungs as her forehead smooths and she sighs, a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips. My jaw slackens. Did my touch soothe the terrors attacking her dreams?

I don’t know how long I hold her sleeping form against my chest, but my fingers twitch, itching to do more. I slide the gray hair tie from her dark-chocolate locks and smooth my fingers along the damp tresses. I massage her scalp, then smooth a hand from the crown of her head down the length, spreading it out on the couch next to me.

The bubble of calm surrounding us pops as my shadows surface, begging for my attention. I sit forward, my hand curling around Evie’s shoulder. Her lips graze my bicep as she hums contently.

One of my brows raises as I survey my surroundings. Nothing’s changed. There’s not even a tingle of awareness. What made my magic react?

And then I feel it. Something prods me in the chest, and for a moment, I worry I’m smothering my little witch with my pecs. I sit back slowly and dart my gaze toward my lap. A laugh escapes me, then I reach a finger for the glittering shadow trailing from Evie’s chest. It curls up my hand to my arm not wrapped around Evie and twines into my hair.

I smile. “Hello to you too,” I say, greeting her shadow in my mind.

Another tendril joins the first, this one twirling and playing in the air above her chest. My shadows converge on it, and my heart palpitates. Have I lost control of my magic? My shoulders sag and I blow out a deep breath, ruffling the hair that dropped into my eyes. I eye the pair of shadows as mine cocoons hers in an embrace, as if they are familiar with each other. My gaze narrows before darting at the witch and back at the shadows. They seem to pulse with magic, as if agreeing with my assessment.

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