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The human laughed, but Melchom didn’t think he found it funny. And how would that help?

Melchom itched to touch him, to hold him, to rest his lips against his soft skin and promise him it would all work out. Melchom would keep him happy, and warm, and…

Loved.

His Dove’s eyes crinkled. My life sucked, you know? Is this what happens when you die? You’re stuck with all your memories, and shit?

You’re not dead. The mere idea made Melchom want to throw up, as illogical as it was. You’ll never be dead, and you had a good life.

Please don’t gaslight me.

Melchom shook his head. I’m not tricking you. You have more happy memories than you do sad memories. That’s a good life.

Not if the sad memories carry much more weight.

He’d been about to dismiss it as a human thing, but he guessed it made sense. His main bad memory—being betrayed and dethroned by the first human he’d thought to love—had shaped so much of his existence.

Build happier ones, then.

How? I’m in Hell.

You’re with me. Melchom groaned. In the physical world, Gaz climbed up to the bed—his not-made-for-hellhounds bed—and moved his arm out of the way so she too could hold on to the pliant body on top of him. You can rule with me.

Why would I be interested in ruling?

Melchom didn’t know. To be fair, he’d never had a huge interest in it, either. It was just part of his reality, what was expected of him. The thing he’d been born to do.

Melchom. His Dove sighed, his hand caressing his cheek. I don’t know what I’m doing any more than you do. I want to wake up.

Do it, then. Hopeless tears mixed with a new bout of anger.

This shouldn’t be happening. None of this.

Just take me to Jordan.

Dove was gone after that. Well, he wasn’t, Melchom corrected himself. He’d just stopped showing himself to Melchom, and finding him inside the maze Melchom had just begun to familiarize himself with wouldn’t be precisely easy.

I will, little Dove.

He just needed to stay cuddling him a little longer, breathing in his scent.

Master? Gaz whined while she nuzzled all over Dove’s beautiful body.

“I’ll fix it, Gaz.” He had to. “He just… He needs some time.”

CHAPTER 17

DOVE

It had been good at first. He’d watched the images playing in the mirrors, and they’d been good. Melchom had been right—partly. Dove had felt happiness. He’d felt happiness at his birthday party when he turned ten and his mother had rented one of those blow up castles for him. He’d felt it too when he’d been fourteen, and the captain of the football team had kissed him under the bleachers, as cliché as it all sounded now. The guy had been a terrible kisser, but Dove had felt desired.

Even then, he’d known that was a thing to be savored slowly. Even before he’d dared to let his hair grow, he knew not everyone would want him—not even the people who should.

The bad memories had started to overwhelm the good ones when he turned seventeen. That was when he’d had his first psychotic break. He’d been pushed into a ward, and his father had blamed his mother for allowing him to keep his head in the clouds.

To this day, he wasn’t quite sure about what that meant. None of the doctors he’d seen had, either.

He’d left his house one month after leaving the ward. He hadn’t quite turned eighteen yet, and a classmate had housed him until he graduated. Then he left town… and he met Jordan.