Page 85 of Corrupt Shadows

He waits until I finish my coffee, which I know does nothing to help my insomnia, but it does take the edge off the withdrawal slowly climbing its way back into my body after I stopped using magic again.

I walk to his second bedroom, as I blew apart most of the furniture in his last one, and clench my teeth. His footsteps sound behind me and he leans against the door, his eyes boring into me as I slowly strip. I pull a silk nightgown from the dresser. I don’t know how he got clothes here, possibly by a housekeeper. Or he has had a female guest in the Shadow Realm before.

The thought heats my cheeks, but I quickly pull on the pajamas, the silvery silk fabric clinging to my hips and breasts, sagging where my stomach is. My stomach growls when I touch it, but the thought of eating only heightens my nausea. Every limb in my body aches, my eyelids heavy as I climb into the bed.

The sheets shift when Lorcan gets in next to me. I don’t protest to him getting in beside me, as long as he leaves me to sleep. My head hits the pillow, and slumber pulls me deeper before I can fully shut my mind off.

My eyes flutter open, but everything in the room is distorted, as if I’m trapped between the Human and Shadow Realm. I whip my head around, but the bed is empty, and everything is faded, the furniture and lamps in black and white.

A shadowy figure appears in the doorway, the man like a wall of muscle. Ezra’s ashen face comes into view, and his eyes lock onto mine. “I should kill you.”

I kick my legs against the bed, pressing my back to the headboard. Where the fuck is Lorcan? I glance at my wrist, but my bracelet isn’t there. “I’m dreaming,” I realize aloud, but my magic is here too, swirling under the surface. “You’re in my head. How?”

He closes the distance between us and climbs onto the bed. My scream is muffled by his palm, and his other hand snakes up to my throat. His voice comes out deeper than I remember, his dark hair pulled back into a bun. I wrestle against him, but he’s too strong. Shadows move from my chest, but his own rise from his body, like vipers ready to attack. My magic retreats, and Ezra laughs maniacally. “My brother has been too soft with you.” His fingers grip tighter, pressing against my carotid artery.

My head spins, and I grasp his wrists, trying to pull him from me, but he doesn’t move. I will my shadows from me again, letting them dance from my body like black glittering hands. My bloodshot eyes bulge as Ezra’s thicker, darker magic smothers mine, choking it as he is me. “Lorcan has given you a false sense of security, Fallenmoore witch, if you think your shadows are any match for ours.” He leans down, his hot breath hitting my neck. He inhales deeply, then closes his eyes as he rises over me once more. “I can see why you’ve become an obsession of his. You smell wonderful. All that magic, evil, and arousal together is intoxicating.”

I scream against his hand, despising my body for arching at the hand around my throat.

He tilts his head, those predatory eyes gleaming under candlelight. “Fear not, witch. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Why am I not waking up? I clamp my eyes shut, but nothing happens.

“Your family would be disappointed,” he continues. “My brother wants you to make a new portal mirror, but you can’t let him out.”

I open my mouth when his fingers slip, dragging his skin between my teeth. I clamp down, but he only laughs as I sink my teeth in harder. Finally he pulls away, blood dripping through the creases of his hand. I spit blood onto the sheets. “Fuck you,” I croak, gasping for air. I rub my throat, the ache heavy on my clavicle.

His weight is crushing, but slickness still grows between my legs as his erection bulges behind his pants. What the fuck is happening?

I slam my fists to his chest, but he quickly restrains my wrists over my head with one hand. “I am not your enemy,” Ezra hisses. “My brother is far worse than me. He’s gaining your trust, just like your ancestors did to him.”

My blood runs cold. “Why should I believe you?”

His nose wrinkles. “I was there when it happened. The spell that binds him here was done with your blood,” he says, and I stop fighting. I’ve heard that already. “He can’t be set free unless you take his place.”

Goose bumps spread along my skin. “That’s not true.”

He brings his mouth to my ear and whispers against my lobe. “He doesn’t care about you. Don’t let a hunter lure you in, little bunny. You’ll be trapped forever. If you want to keep him here, you only need his name.”

“I don’t know it.”

“Just look under his mask.”

Before I can reply or process what he said, I’m pushed out of the dream. My head spins as I fall through an ocean of layers, then wake up.

THIRTY-SIX

Evie

Ezra’s warning from last night plays over in my mind as I watch steam spiral from the clawfoot tub while it fills. What if Lorcan is using me to escape?

Dark-gray damask paper covers the walls, and a silver-framed mirror hangs over the standing vanity, reflecting my naked figure. I peer over my shoulder, holding my hair to one side. The tattoo at the base of my spine has flourished, the roses and skulls now woven intricately up my back, reaching the bottom of my neck.

My legs, arms, and back are covered. I look much like the rest of my family. Since embracing my death and shadow magics, everything feels different. I’m more powerful than ever, yet I’ve never felt more afraid. Losing the grip of my sanity has always been a deep-seated fear, and after reading Evangeline’s slow descent into madness, it’s never felt more real.

I keep my magic suppressed, but without my pills, it’s more difficult. The cigarettes help, but there’s little to keep me numb here.

After removing the lid from a glass jar, I use the small spoon to dish jasmine-scented bath salts into the tub. After, I grab the jar next to it, filled with rose petals, and sprinkle two handfuls over the water. That mixed with the vanilla bubble bath I’d poured earlier creates an enchanting aroma, soothing my soul.

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