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“Eating?” Gwen yanked on his arm, but to no effect. “Wait!Youarethe reason why I’ve been sick! I fucking knew it, you piece of shit, you—”
“Oh, Gwen, save the theatrics!” Ambrosius scolded affectionately as his hand loosened on her shoulder and glided to the base of her jaw. He tilted her head so they were eye to eye. “What is it?Raw meat? Organs? Or is it less physical and more abstract? Are you more like me than I thought? Is it loneliness, or maybe despair? I can’t imagine you’ve eaten many souls, but—”
“Oh, my fucking god, will you shut up long enough so I can talk?” Gwen grumbled, fisting the hair on the back of his head with the hand that had once griped his arm.
Ambrosius allowed it simply because he enjoyed it.
His face must have shown it to some degree, because her expression grew more pissed.
“Stop it,” she ordered. “I haven’t eaten anything like that. No raw meat and no—how the hell does someone eat despair?”
“Oh, it’s quite easy if you happen to be a demon that feeds on despair,” Ambrosius replied. “Most demons eat the more awful things in life.”
Ambrosius had briefly known a demon who fed on humans’ fear of aging. Guntur barely had to bait a human into it, unlike the demons who preyed on other vices. He had simply instigated it by complimenting a younger woman's beauty or a younger man's vitality, and the humans would do the work for him. Guntur had been fortunate to have spawned with such an appetite. Others were not as lucky.
“Whatever,” Gwen grumbled. “My point stands. I haven’t been eating anything like that. I’ve eaten more food than ever before, but it doesn’t seem to help.”
He pulled away from the hold she had on his hair, staring at her in confusion.
“Explain.”
An order, not a request. Ambrosius made that clear as his hand slid down her jaw to her soft throat. Gwen didn’t look away, keeping her amber eyes locked with his.
“I’mhungry,” she admitted before letting out the softest of groans through gritted teeth. “No matter what I eat, no matter how much I eat, I’m still sofucking hungry!”
She sounded like she was in agony. Ambrosius couldn’t remember how often warlocks needed to feed, but if it was anything like a human’s appetite, then no wonder Gwen had been so irritable. Hunger was a universal suffering for all manners of evil. Ambrosius was no different, consuming scraps as they clumsily explored his Antiquarium day after day.
Hunger with no relief was one of the worst things that could happen to a monster. Ambrosius’ clawed hand tightened against her abdomen, noting the small swell of tears in the corner of her eyes. So much needless suffering.
“Gwendolyn, my bittersweet,” Ambrosius sighed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I don’t know!” she cried. “I didn’t know what was happening, and I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m mad at you!”
Ambrosius hushed her, lowering his hold on her neck, which allowed her to move. Gwen turned to face him, hand raised to wipe the tears from her distraught face. She swayed toward him, a conflicted moment of weakness as she obviously craved comfort. But to accept comfort from him was to show weakness to the very entity that had trapped her within his web.
Good,he thought.Depend on me, only me, my bittersweet. No one will understand your suffering as I do.
His hand still boasted long, sinister fingers that Ambrosius used to gather the moisture from her lashes. As gentle as a monster like him could be. A small comfort, but not enough to endear her to him. Ambrosius didn’t wanther to come to him too easily or under any false notion of affection. The sooner she understood his nature, the easier their time together would be. And if, for whatever reason, Gwen strayed from his plans, well, Ambrosius was more than happy to scare her again.
“I’m hungry,” she whimpered. “I’m hungry and nothing tastes good.”
“Oh, my bittersweet … nothing is satisfying you because what you’re eating is vile,” Ambrosius admonished.
Gwen blinked, her head shook in confusion.
“Gwen, human food will only get you so far,” Ambrosius explained, lifting his hand between them, eyeing the small pool of her tears that had gathered at the end of it. “You need to feed on human life, my warlock.”
“What do you mean?” Gwen asked.
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Ambrosius said before dipping his head low to lick her tear from his finger.
She had already been shaking, but Gwen somehow managed to raise her hand, as if she could stop the truth. Denial was clear on her face. Before she could voice it, Ambrosius pulled her nearer. He cradled her distressed face in his hands before leaning down to kiss her wet cheek. Gwen let out a small whimper as Ambrosius licked a path up toward her eye, smearing the tears away.
They were salty, filled with anguish, and delectable. A light palette cleanser after tasting her newly changed blood. It no longer held the same flavor as when she had been human, but it didn’t matter, because it was hers. Her blood, her tears, her saliva—he would take all of it and form her in the image she was meant to be.
I might hate you still, but it doesn’t matter,Ambrosius thought as he consumed her horror.You’re mine now.
When she had calmed enough to stop crying, Gwen grasped onto one of his spindly fingers. There wasn’t any of the same lingering fear there had been when she had first seen it. None of her lovely temper, either.